Being the Main Character is Hard
by The Noble Platypus
Summary: Ethan Williams opts to go to Hogwarts after a flood of unimpressive mail from American Institutions. But being the main character has both perks and drawbacks. Rating to be safe.
1. Introducing Ethan

Well, hello everyone! After writing primarily LOTR and POTC stuff, I've decided it's about time to branch out into Harry Potter, something I've been longing to do for quite a while, now. Just one word of warning: my sense of humor, for those of you who haven't read any of my other fics, is slightly... okay, _very_ off-kilter.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything stemming from the mind of the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I do, however, own Ethan.

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Ethan Williams flopped into his hammock and sighed. Staring up through the criss-crossed tree branches, he allowed one hand to droop over the side, causing the letter to scrape the ground. The sound it made was slightly irritating, so Ethan lifted it back up and skimmed over it again. Another monstrous sigh.

It wasn't as if he hadn't been expecting it. He was fully, sometimes painfully, aware of his magical talent, though he kept it pretty well hidden from his muggle parents. It was just... well, he had really been hoping that it would come from Hogwarts. As it turned out, Hogwarts was one of the few places that _hadn't_ sent him a letter. Which made sense; the Midwest wasn't anywhere near the British Isles, after all, Ethan reasoned to himself. And he was definitely getting plenty of mail without magic schools from across the pond pitching in.

Every institute in America, it seemed, from the Salem Witches' Institute ("I'm a _boy_," Ethan had grumbled, chucking the letter) to Magicore Institute of Technology (which had started bellowing school slogans from the trash can, and wouldn't shut up until Ethan singed it) had been flooding the boy's bedroom. He could barely step outside without owls (or bald eagles, as some places wanted to appear patriotic) swooping down and dropping letters or hefty manila envelopes on his head.

The charred brochure from Magicore was lying in the fire pit a short distance away. "Repair air conditioners with the wave of a wand!" it wheezed doggedly. Ethan rolled out of the hammock, walked over to the fire pit, and stomped the brochure into a sulky silence. Then he looked at the most recent letter one more time.

"Attend 3M Institute of Magic and More Magic," the letter squeaked nervously, having witnessed Ethan's treatment of the Magicore brochure, "and learn about the bona-fide magic in everyday objects that muggles use, such as scotch tape and -"

"No, thanks," Ethan said flatly, tearing the letter neatly in two. It screamed.

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After poking dispiritedly through the few letters he had kept, Ethan reached a decision. He would simply _write_ to Dumbledore, and ask if he could attend Hogwarts as an exchange student or something. 'I could even include the Magicore brochure as evidence of what I have to deal with here,' Ethan thought with a nasty little grin. After rummaging around for paper and a pen, the boy began to write.

__

Dear Dumbledore,

He scribbled it out. 'Dear Dumbledore'? He didn't even know the man! Try again.

__

Dumbledore,

Well, that just sounded too abrupt. Scribble out again.

__

To Whom it May

Ethan didn't even finish, realizing halfway through how idiotic it would sound. He scribbled that out as well.

__

Headmaster Dumbledore,

That was a bit better, although the title 'headmaster' always made Ethan snicker. He continued writing.

_My name is Ethan Williams. I'm an American wizard who is a bit unimpressed with the magical institutions here in the United States, and am wondering if you have an exchange program. Or perhaps you could, you know, just let me come over there anyway? I would really like to attend Hogwarts. Please let me know if that would be possible._

__

Thanks!

Ethan

The boy held the letter at arm's length and looked it over critically. Not bad. Short and to the point. Now all he had to do was find a bird to carry it over to Hogwarts for him.

Ethan didn't own an owl. He didn't need one. He was a parrotmouth, meaning that he could speak the language of birds. And his house was in the country, so finding a friendly owl to carry a letter for him was never a problem. All he had to do was wander into the backyard and ask if anyone wanted a change of scenery. But this was a long-distance flight, and Ethan wasn't about to ask one of the little Western Screech owls that lived in the area to fly all the way to Britain. He'd have to find another bird, one that wouldn't plummet into the waves from sheer exhaustion halfway there and get eaten by sharks.

Luckily for Ethan, living near a river meant that there was no shortage of seagulls in the area. He was sure he could talk one of them into carrying a letter for him. He sealed the letter in a Ziplock bag (in case the bird met a patch of rough weather), rolled it up, and tied it with some string, leaving enough slack to tie the whole thing to the first cooperative bird he could find. Then he stepped out the door.

There was a small flock of seagulls wheeling about over the trees a short distance away. Ethan cupped his hands and screeched in parrottongue, "Hey! I have food!"

The effect was immediate. The flock turned and made a beeline for him and landed in the grass near his feet, loudly demanding that he give up whatever food he had.

"Not so fast," Ethan said, jerking the dangling bit of string out of the beak of a particularly hungry gull. "I need one of you to do a favor for me."

"What kind of favor? You said you had food!"

"And I _do_ have food, but none of you are getting any until one of you agrees to help me out, here!" Ethan held up the letter. "This needs to get to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in Britain."

"Oh, Hogwarts," the birds screeched raucously. "Britain! Lovely this time of year!" (It should be noted that all animals are fully aware of the magical community. This is mostly due to the fact that animals see what is, whereas muggles see what they want to see. So it's no surprise that these gulls were familiar with Hogwarts, a big-name magical institution.)

"You know where it is, then? Any of you care to take this to Dumbledore?" Ethan jiggled the letter for emphasis.

"But... food!"

"I'll feed you all in a minute, but not until one of you agrees to take this," Ethan said, fighting back exasperation.

"Oh, fine," one of the birds ruffled its feathers. "I'll take it!" It flapped up onto a nearby birdbath and held out a leg. "Hurry it up! I'm hungry!"

Ethan let out a relieved sigh and tied the Ziplocked letter onto the bird's outstretched leg. The seagull flew around a bit, getting used to the new weight, while Ethan ran inside and grabbed a few slices of bread. Once all of the gulls were fed, they dispersed, one of them heading purposefully East. Ethan flopped back onto the hammock. Now all he could do was wait.

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Well, that's it for now! Short, I know but the following chapters will be longer! Next chapter, Ethan has a conversation with Fawkes! Reviews are always appreciated!

-Platy


	2. Fawkes

Here's another chapter! Woot! And I don't own Harry Potter, alas. But I do own Ethan Williams, his family, and the Institutions I made up but I don't own 3M (Which I believe stands for Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing, not Magic and More Magic). There, I think that covers it. Oh, I also own the POA soundtrack and am totally in love with tracks 6,7, and 15. (dreamy sigh) Oh, and 9, because that one has that jaw-dropping flute line that I am determined to learn someday.

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Ethan was digging through his letters again. He had sent the letter to Hogwarts a week ago, and still hadn't gotten any kind of response. Perhaps something had happened to the seagull. It could have gotten lost or something, or maybe Dumbledore had just chucked his letter in disgust. He could have worded it better. But he was only eleven; what did the old guy expect, a ten-page dissertation?

Ethan sighed and shook his head. Whatever the reason, it didn't look like he'd be getting an acceptance letter to Hogwarts anytime soon, if ever. So he picked up a large, colorful brochure for The American Academy of Magic. It was quietly humming its alma mater to itself, slightly off-key from sitting at the bottom of the pile for some time. The front of the brochure was dominated by a large, color, moving photo of some students playing Quidditch. Ethan watched, wide-eyed, as a student took a bludger to the throat and toppled off their broom.

"Ouch," he muttered, turning the page. The next page had several columns of text, as well as another moving photo of a group of students sitting under a tree in full autumn swing in front of an ivy-covered building, talking and doing minor enchantments with their wands, their bookbags strewn across the grass. Ethan looked at the picture for a while, but nothing interesting happened, so he turned to the text.

"The American Academy of Magic has been a leading school of witchcraft and wizardry since it was founded in 1802," the brochure said out loud in a low, pleasant voice as Ethan's eyes passed over the words. He raised his eyebrows, then began to experiment, allowing his eyes to wander back and forth along the sentence. "The American Academy American Academy American the American Academy has Academy has been a leading a leading a been a leading school of witchcraft and wiz and craft and witchcraft and wizardry since it was founded in 1802." Ethan laughed. Well, the brochure had hidden entertainment value. He'd give it points for that. He tossed it aside and was reaching for a letter from The Upper Midwest Mystical Conservatory (which was trembling in excitement at being acknowledged) when there was a loud rapping at his bedroom window.

Ethan slid off of his bed, yanked up the blinds, and gaped. Hovering outside his window was a massive scarlet bird, the likes of which he had never seen before. It was clutching a letter in its talons! Ethan hurriedly slid open the window and stepped back to admit the bird. It landed with a quiet skittering noise on his desk and folded its wings.

"Wow," Ethan said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the bird snapped irritably, shoving the letter forward. "Hurry up and take this before I burn it. Don't know what Dumblebum's playing at, treating me like a bloody carrier pigeon." It produced a cigarette from somewhere and lit it with a flaming pinion.

"Um," Ethan said vaguely, not wanting the bird to smoke in his room, but also not wanting to piss it off more than it already was.

"What?!" the bird snapped.

"Nothing," Ethan replied, quickly taking the letter and ripping it open.

_Dear Ethan,_ ('damn it, he used 'dear'! I'm an idiot!' thought the boy as he read)

__

Although your request is a bit unusual, I can completely understand your frustration with the number of American schools of magic. Under normal circumstances, I would urge you to look closer to home for the sake of your friends and family. However, seeing as you are the main character, Fawkes is prepared to take you to Hogwarts as soon as you are ready. Hope to see you soon!

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

(extensive list of titles implied)

"Wow!" Ethan grinned. "I've been accepted!"

"Yippeeeee." The bird twirled a pinion in a mock excited gesture. "You're the main character! What did you expect?" The observation was punctuated by a series of hacking coughs. It took all of Ethan's self-control to not wince openly.

"So, you're Fawkes?"

"The one and only. Glad to see you've heard of me. Oh, wait," the bird's tone became more cruelly sarcastic than normal as he exhaled a stream of smoke in the general vicinity of Ethan's face, "silly me! You just read my name in that letter, didn't you?"

"Uh well, your name is in the letter, but I've, uh, heard of you before." Ethan choked back a cough.

"I'll tell you who you've heard of," Fawkes said, taking a long, bitter drag at his cigarette. "Harry Potter. _Everyone's_ heard of that brat."

"He seems nice, from what I've heard of him," Ethan said carefully.

"Oh?" Fawkes chucked the cigarette butt out the window and promptly lit up another. "Perhaps we aren't thinking of the same person. _I'm_ thinking of Harry I-killed-the-basalisk-all-by-my-damned-self Potter! Harry No-I-sure-didn't-have-any-help-from-any-BIRDS-I-could-name Potter! That scene-stealing, glory-gobbling little _urchin_!" Fawkes' head-crest burst into flame briefly, and Ethan took an involuntary step backwards. "Who blinded the damned thing? Me! Who brought the kid the Sorting Hat? ME! Who healed his stupid arm? ME!! He wouldn't have lasted ten SECONDS without my help, and who got all the glory? Who got all the credit? Go on, I'm asking YOU, kid!" He waved his cigarette in Ethan's direction. "Take a wild guess! A stab in the dark, go on!"

"Um," Ethan said carefully, "him?"

"DAMN BLOODY STRAIGHT!" Fawked ruffled his feathers irritably and chucked the most recent cigarette butt out the window to join the first. "And I find it a bit odd that him showing loyalty to Dumbledore meant that _I_ had to bust my tail feathers and save his ass. Kid never showed any loyalty to ME!" He shuffled back and forth on the desk for a minute, grumbling quietly to himself. Then he snapped his head around to glare at Ethan. "So, are you packed, or what?"

"Oh!" Ethan jumped. "Uh, no."

"Well, get on it!" Fawkes hacked a few times.

"Right," Ethan said, fumbling for his suitcase. "Um, that's quite a cough you've got there."

"Eh, it's a curse," Fawkes said casually, wiping a bit of goober from his beak and flicking it across the room. It hit a wall and stuck. Ethan looked at it in horror for a moment, then forced his attention back to his packing. "Not literally, of course," Fawkes continued. "I took up smoking after the whole Chamber ordeal. I was stressed out and whatnot. And now I'm hooked." He lit up for the third time. "All that Potter kid's fault, too."

"Yeah," Ethan said with feeling. Fawkes looked at him suspiciously for a moment, but must have detected no signs of sarcasm as he then turned and stared out the window, taking a long, thoughtful drag. "Hey, who's this broad?" His inquiry was immediately followed by a screech from outside.

Ethan leaped up and looked out the window. His mother was standing there, pale with fright, and looking at Fawkes in shock. The gardening implements she had been holding dropped out of her hands and thudded to the ground.

"What are _you_ looking at?" Fawkes asked belligerently, though all Ethan's mother heard was melodic twittering.

"Mom! It's okay!" Ethan said, waving out the window at her. "He won't hurt you!"

"Says who?" Fawkes snickered, then flicked his cigarette away, folded his wings neatly, and tried to look harmless.

"What is it?" his mother asked, looking doubtfully at the bird.

"Um... a phoenix," Ethan said. His parents both knew that he was a wizard, but he knew that his parrottongue ability made them slightly nervous, so he avoided doing it around them. "He's come to take me to Hogwarts that school I told you about. Remember?"

"Yes you're going now?" She dragged her eyes away from Fawkes and frowned at her son. "Just like that?"

"Well yeah, I know it is a bit unexpected." Ethan shrugged.

"You just better get out here and give me a hug before you leave." She picked up her trowel and gloves and shook them at Ethan.

"I will."

"Do you need help packing?"

"No, I think I've got it," Ethan assured her.

"All right," she said doubtfully. She nodded at Fawkes. "Pretty bird."

"Excuse me?!" Fawkes snapped, though it sounded harmless to her. "'Pretty bird,' like I'm a bloody parrot!" He ruffled his feathers again and turned to look at Ethan. "What are you standing there for?! Chop, chop!" He snapped his beak twice for lack of clapping ability. Ethan jumped again and started throwing clothes into his suitcase. Inside thirty minutes, he was packed.

"About time," Fawkes said. He flapped down to Ethan's suitcase and lifted it easily. "Let's blow this popsicle stand!"

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**FrighteninglyObsessed:** Why, thank you! I suppose it could kind of be considered one, though there isn't going to be any love interest, as Ethan is only eleven. ;-)

**Katie115:** Thanks! And I shall!

**Quirky Writer:** Thank you muchly. Don't worry, I never abandon a fic.

**Syth Colbalt:** Oh, I'm entering it with a VENGEANCE. ;-) Hehehe. Thanks! Hope this wasn't too long of a wait! :-P

**D6:** Your review made me giggle. Glad you liked it!

**TheSiriusSparrow:** As you should be, hehehe! It's going to be fun!

**Laire:** Thanks! :D

**Fuji the Hobbit:** Yeah, it's really hot here, too. Doesn't it suck? And I don't even have air conditioning!

**Anamaria Elentari:** Glad you like it! Thanks!

**Scap:** I'll try not to make Snape and Draco completely loathsome, hehehe. And yes, he is eleven. Don't feel bad about rambling on; I LOVE long reviews! And he's going to be several years behind HP and Co. But well, you'll see. ;-)

**Rachel the Insane Unicorn:** Horror, indeed! And it's only getting worse! Bwaha!

**Mint Sauce:** Yay, you reviewed! And yay, I have your HAHAHA seal of approval!

**Phaidra:** Sheesh, you responded quick! I've barely got it up for three seconds and people are reviewing, lol. Thanks tons!

**Hirilnara:** WOO! First reviewer! (fives) No muses unless I get bored, hehehehe. But here's a response! That's something!

Thanks bunches for all of your reviews! They were great! So you all get talking Phoenix plushies! (flings plushies into the crowd) Just don't squeeze them in front of your parents or grandparents; Fawkes has quite a mouth on him.

-Platy


	3. Flying and Phoenix Song

And another chapter! Quite impressed with the reviewer response don't usually get so many so quickly... except with the Sequel, and that was a bit of a fluke. :P I do not own Harry Potter, in case you were a bit confused.

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"So, how are you planning to get me to Hogwarts?" Ethan jogged down the hallway after Fawkes, who was carrying his suitcase. "Grab onto your tail or something?"

"Grab onto my _tail_?!" Fawkes looked back at Ethan, voice dripping with disgust. "What, you think just because that Potter dope did it, it's okay? It _hurt_. Listen to Uncle Fawkes, kid, and never, _ever_ do anything because that bespectacled jerk did. I mean, honestly, look at where his actions got _him_. I take it you've read the fifth installment of that little series?"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'little,' but yeah," Ethan nodded, opening the front door and holding it back so the phoenix could fly through.

"Yeah, well, you may have noticed that the kid barely needs Voldemort's help; he'd kill himself very neatly if he didn't have Dumbledore and several dozen others watching his back all the time. It's pathetic." The bird set down the suitcase. "Put your stuff in that hammock there and sit yourself in it. I can carry you that way. And it'll be a hell of a lot more comfortable than you trying to hang onto my tail all the way across the Atlantic."

"Hang on," Ethan grunted as he hoisted his suitcase into the hammock. "I have to say goodbye to Mom."

"Oh, he has to say goodbye to Mummy," Fawkes said in a high-pitched mockery of Ethan's voice. Instead of rising to the bait, the boy ignored the bird and jogged to the backyard, where his mother was hosing down a patch of lilies.

"Mom? We're about ready to head out." Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets, surprised to find himself trembling. Everything had seemed pretty surreal thus far, and the fact that he was about to hop into a hammock and leave home for the better part of a year had suddenly hit full force. He'd never been away from home for more than a few weeks before, and even then, he had always been with his family on vacation or something. Now he was leaving his family and everything behind, and it was for _school_, of all things.

"You've got everything you need?" She turned off the hose and took her gloves off. "Do you want anything to eat? We have chips you could take, or"

"I could take some chips," Ethan said. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he thought it might make his mother feel better about him leaving if he took something. He trailed after her into the house and stared with mounting terror at the linoleum tiles.

"How are you getting to this British school, again?" his mother asked as she rummaged through a cupboard.

"Fawkes is going to carry me."

"You mean that bird out there?" She spun around, accidentally knocking a bag of coffee beans onto the counter. "How?"

"Well, I'm going to climb into the hammock, and he's going to grab it and, um, lift off. He's very strong," Ethan added, noticing the peculiar shade of gray his mother had gone.

"He'd better be." His mother's eyes turned hard as she clutched the bag of chips in one hand and marched out the door.

"Looks like someone's on the warpath," Fawkes snorted as mother and son came down the front steps.

"So this bird," she pointed to Fawkes, "is going to carry that hammock, with you and all of your things in it, halfway across the country and ALL the way across the Atlantic?!"

"He's very strong," Ethan said lamely.

"What, doesn't she _trust_ me?" Fawkes sniggered.

"He could be the strongest bird the world has ever seen; that doesn't mean I trust him to ferry you safely across an ocean!"

"It'll be all right, Mom," Ethan said reassuringly. "I'll send seagulls back with little notes saying I'm all right, okay? And once we land, I'll send you a proper letter to let you know I've arrived safely."

"Well," she frowned, clearly caving in, "fine. But we can make this hammock more comfortable. I'll get some blankets."

Five minutes later, the hammock was fully padded to Ethan's mother's satisfaction. Ethan set his suitcase (which wasn't that heavy; Fawkes had told him to pack light as most of his wardrobe would have to be purchased in Diagon Alley anyway) on the hammock and climbed in next to it. A pen, scratch paper, and string were tucked in one of the outer pockets. Tucking the chips in between the suitcase and himself, Ethan gave his mother one last hug, with Fawkes's stream of impatient grumbling providing a soothing background melody for anyone who wasn't a parrotmouth. Then Fawkes grabbed the metal rings on each end of the hammock in his claws and hoisted the whole thing into the air as if it weighed no more than a daisy chain.

"Bye, Mom!" Ethan waved down at the rapidly shrinking figure below.

"Goodbye, Ethan! Be good! Study hard! _Write_! I love you!"

"Love you, too WAUGH!" Ethan leaned back against the padded weaving as Fawkes accelerated rapidly over the trees.

"Aww, did I startle you?" Fawkes laughed.

"I'm fine," Ethan said shortly, watching wide-eyed as familiar landmarks grew tiny and distant. "Uh, Fawkes?"

"Yeah?"

"There isn't really any cloud cover what if someone sees us?"

"On the off chance that some muggle actually notices us," Fawkes replied scornfully, "they aren't going to believe their eyes. Watch it, pal!" The phoenix swerved sharply to avoid a flock of shocked-looking geese; Ethan had to grip the sides of the hammock to avoid spilling out. "I'm flyin', here! Geez, traffic's a bloody nightmare"

As they gained altitude, the air grew considerably colder. Snuggling gratefully in one of the blankets his mother had provided, Ethan watched the country peel away beneath him and fought the urge to tell Fawkes to turn around and take him back home immediately. He wanted to learn magic. He really did. He just didn't imagine that he would end up feeling so alone.

"Cheer up, kid," Fawkes said in a moment of thoughtfulness. "You're the main character; everything will turn out fine. How about a little music?"

"Phoenix song?" Ethan was interested almost in spite of himself. Fawkes may have not been the most cheerful of birds, but phoenix song was legendary. "Sure."

"All right!" Fawkes cleared his throat and hacked a few times. "Meemeemeemeemeeeeeeeeeeeee harrAACCKKK!!! All right."

The bird then launched into the most hauntingly beautiful melody Ethan had ever heard, accompanied by lyrics so vulgar that they made Eminem sound like Barney the dinosaur. For a normal person, each melodic theme was so heart-wrenchingly gorgeous that it brought tears to the eye. Ethan, however, understood every single word. And the song brought tears to his eyes for a very different reason. In a mere two lines of lyrics, Fawkes managed to offend every race and religious sect in the world at least twice, some as many as five times. There was not a single word that bared repeating.

"STOP!" Ethan finally bellowed, worried that he was going to vomit if the song continued.

"What? Everyone loves phoenix song," Fawkes looked down at Ethan and blinked innocently.

"You're _sick_!" The boy glared reproachfully up at the bird. "How long did it take you to think _up_ something that terrible?"

"Ten years," Fawkes said with pride evident in his voice. "The best ten years of my life. But I gotta hand it to you people for inventing the f-word; it's so _versatile_-"

"Okay," Ethan interrupted. "That's enough phoenix song for now. In fact, that's enough phoenix song for the rest of my life."

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Once the last of the great lakes was out of sight, Ethan dug out his pen and a bit of paper.

__

Dear Mom,

We just passed the great lakes! They didn't look so great from the air, though. Just thought I'd let you know that the flight is going well. Fawkes sang for a bit. It was awful. I'll write again when we reach the ocean.

Love,

Ethan

Holding the letter tightly to stop it from blowing off, Ethan called down the first bird he saw, which happened to be a sleepy-looking heron. The bird looked hard at Ethan, then angled over until it was flapping right next to the hammock.

"Did you call me?"

"Yes," Ethan held up the letter. "Where are you headed?"

"I heard there's quite a large lake or two back that way."

"You should check out Minnesota. Land of ten thousand lakes. Though it's really more like eleven thousand."

"Really?" The heron looked slightly interested.

"Oh yeah. Say, would you mind dropping off a letter for me?"

"So this is about a letter." The heron sighed heavily. "Why don't you get an owl like everyone else?"

"Because herons are more reliable," Ethan lied smoothly. The bird looked flattered.

"Well, in that case, I'd be glad to help." The heron flew a bit ahead of the hammock so that its long legs were extended practically into Ethan's lap. "Where to?" it asked as Ethan rolled up the note and tied it on.

Ethan gave the bird the address. "It's right on the Mississippi if you get lost, you could try asking a gull for directions. Most of the local birds know me."

"Fraternizing with gulls," the bird snorted. "I'll find it, never you fear." It wheeled around and headed back towards the home Ethan was beginning to regret leaving behind.

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Four hours later, they were well over the ocean. There was no land in sight. Ethan had sent back another letter as he had promised, this one with a rather stupid albatross. He hoped the bird would make it.

It was even colder out over the water. Ethan was bundled up in all of the blankets he had, and beginning to doze off. His eyelids were steadily drooping then they snapped open. Were they losing altitude?

Ethan looked up at Fawkes, who was wheezing slightly. "Fawkes? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Fawkes puffed stubbornly. The hammock swayed lower. They were now only sixty feet above the waves, which looked large and nastier the closer they got.

"Are you sure? I mean, if you want to find an island and take a break or something, we can"

"I said I'm bloody all right!" The phoenix hacked several times. The hammock dipped another twenty feet. Ethan tensed up, his numbed fingers gripping the twisted rope.

"Fawkes, you need to pull up!" The boy watched with wide eyes as a ten-foot wave hissed by a mere twenty feet below.

"I'm fine," came the stubborn reply. The hammock continued to drop steadily. Ethan stood shakily, gripping the sides of the hammock with all his might as another towering wave approached; this one would hit them for sure. The wall of cloudy blue came surging toward them.

"FaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAUGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!" Ethan screamed, shutting his eyes and waiting to be swept into the sea.

But the next sensation he felt wasn't that of a wall of water slamming into him. Instead, his stomach dropped unpleasantly as Fawkes surged into the air with renewed vigor, the wave passing harmlessly beneath them. Ethan collapsed into his bundle of blankets, shaking like a leaf while Fawkes cackled.

"You should have heard yourself! Hahahaha! 'Oh, Fawkes, you have to pull up!'" The phoenix rose higher, as fresh as he was when they had first started out.

"I hate you," Ethan informed the phoenix, still shaking. "I _hate_ you!"

"Aw, lighten up," Fawkes said airily. "I could sing you a song if you like"

"NO, THANK YOU!" Ethan wrapped the blankets back around himself and scowled. The sun was setting, and the boy was exhausted. Figuring that the phoenix wouldn't try and pull anything if he wasn't awake to 'enjoy' it, Ethan curled up in a ball and shut his eyes. "I'm going to take a nap. Wake me when we get there."

"Sure thing, kid." Ethan fell asleep to the sound of Fawkes humming his song to himself.

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A bit rushed, I know but I'm excited for the next chapter! You guys are going to like it!

And at the request of a reviewer: **SMOKING KILLS!** Honestly, the only reason Fawkes doesn't have lung cancer is because he keeps dying and rising from the ashes, anyway. TOBACCO IS WHACKO, IF YOU'RE NOT A PHOENIX IN A PARODY FIC! There.

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The Weaseling Dragon: Yes, indeedy! And there will be plenty of Fawkes in this fic, don't worry.

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Witch of Darkness: Yeah, I used my experiences with college mail as inspiration for the letters and brochures. Too bad the college mail wasn't magical

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Skimbleshanks, the Railway CAT: I'm glad you think this fic is deep, hehehe. Do you mean "destroyed" in a good way, or a bad way? :P

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Spoofmaster: Glad you like it.

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D6: Yeah, he got a raw deal. And I dunno when the heck I'm going to have time for the choose your own adventure, but I do want to try it.

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Fuji the Hobbit: Yeah, it's brutal, but I have a fan so I'm surviving. Harry will be in his sixth year, I suppose. And I imagine that Ethan will be treated quite nicely, being the main character and all. ;-)

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awkward: Thanks loads for the lovely review! I wasn't sure whether to giggle or cry (in a good way). You flatter me terribly! (blush)

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Kathryn Bushore: YAY SUMMER BREAK! I've actually been off for over a month, now, but I've been working 40 hours a week so it doesn't feel like summer that much. And it doesn't help that it's raining all the forking time I swear, it's like living in Washington or something. Anyway, thanks!! :-)

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Anamaria Elentari: He's my hero, too. :P

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Lady Rumbottom: Your name rocks. Fight the man, indeed! Now that Fawkes has someone to listen to him, he's going to be spilling his guts. ;-)

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Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Two hooves up! WOO! (fives) Wait can I do that if you have hooves? (ponders)

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Ember the angry Firedrake: Only the second time? Hehehehe. Glad you like my characterization of Fawkes! :D

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TheSiriusSparrow: Yeah, poor Fawkes. This fic is going to be his moment in the sun and then some.

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morph: Oh, I'd FORGOTTEN about that! Thanks for reminding me; I have to work that in, now. Bwahahaha

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FrighteninglyObsessed: I actually haven't read much HP fiction, so I don't know what typical HP Gary-Stus are like. But I know that the flood of mail was meant more as a parody of the loads of mail that high school students typically get from colleges than to illustrate how wonderful Ethan is. :P And if you don't like Harry much, you may end up LOVING this fic. But that's all I'm going to say. ;-)

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purplestainedglass: Well, he's been through a lot. :P Thanks!

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Hirilnara: Yay! I've changed your perspective on Fawkes forever! I did that with one of my friends, only instead of Fawkes it was Dumbledore, and I merely pointed out the double meaning "headmaster" could have :P I'm dirty.

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Vanyaria Darkshadow: I think that someone telling you that they don't generally read the kind of fic you're writing but do like yours, it's one of the biggest compliments you can receive. So thanks! You made my day!

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Ainu Laire: Eh, don't worry about the laziness. I hardly ever sign in. And I totally sympathize with your fic frustrations. Ficstrations? Hehehe. Anyway, I know how rough it can be when you start something and decide halfway through that you don't want to finish. But who knows, you could wake up one morning totally inspired to work on PotR! Don't overestimate my skills, hehehe I still hardly know where I'm going with poor Davey Jones.

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Lady LifeCharm: Hey! (tackle) Long time no see! I'm glad you like it; thanks bunches!!

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Luck Marie: Thanks muchly!

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Phaidra: Second is still good! It was really close, hehe. I was just amazed at how fast people responded!

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Cricket-chan: Glad you like the parrottongue. :D Thanks!

You guys, I have 40 reviews already, and it's just been two chapters! You are all amazing!! So you all get hammocks and blankets, for doing historical reenactments of Ethan and Fawkes's flight across the ocean in the safety of your own backyard! Enjoy! But don't swing back and forth too hard, or else you'll either flip over or get all tangled up, and that would just be unpleasant. Or else you'd drop your plushie, and it would get all dirty and swear profusely at you. So please, be safe. ;-)

-Platy


	4. Arriving and Gringott's

Wow! Over sixty reviews already! Give yourselves a hand, everyone! WOO! Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own Ethan and, to some extent, Fawkes's personality. :-P

[====]==============

When Ethan awoke, the hammock was passing over the English countryside. Well, Ethan guessed it was the English countryside by the endless maze of old stone walls that divided the pastureland below into slightly lopsided squares, and the obvious fact that England was their destination.

"Well, look who's awake!" Fawkes looked down at Ethan, and the boy got the impression that the bird would have grinned nastily if his beak allowed him to.

"You said you would wake me when we reached land!" Tearing open the bag of chips, Ethan dug in and glanced accusingly up at the phoenix. "Why didn't you?"

"You just looked so _cute_ lying there, all curled up in your blankies." Fawkes started cackling, which rapidly degenerated into a hacking fit so severe that the boy half expected to see a chunk of Fawkes's lung fly out. The bird recovered and continued in his usual, maliciously sarcastic tone. "Just like a liddle angel!"

"Oh, shut up," Ethan grumbled, hurriedly scribbling a note to his mother and talking a seagull into taking it back to America.

"You really ought to be more polite to someone who's been heaving your sorry arse across half a country AND an ocean," Fawkes commented once the seagull was gone.

"Well, I could have taken a plane," Ethan replied icily.

"Yeah, we thought about that, but Trelawny had one of her visions of doom, so Dumbledork told me _I_ had to take you myself. I wasn't thrilled about it, let me tell you" the phoenix trailed off, squinting into the distance. "Well, there's Hogwarts! About time, too"

Ethan leaned forward to get his first glimpse of his home away from home. There was the lake he had read about; as he watched, a giant tentacle shot out of the water, wrapped itself around a crow, and disappeared beneath the surface with the bird in tow. Ethan winced. Note to self: absolutely no swimming in the lake.

He raised his eyes and there, in all its glory, was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And he had to admit it looked good. Better than the books had described it. Its ridiculous amount of towers gleamed in the early morning sunshine, which reflected brightly off the windows of what must have been the Great Hall. In the distance, Ethan could see Hagrid mowing the lawn by herding a flock of what appeared to be sheep with fish tails bursting out of where their bottoms should have been across the grass.

"Mersheep," Fawkes explained as Fang rounded up a few strays. "Hagrid's got 'em trained up; they eat the grass down to two inches and move on."

"They were never mentioned in the book."

"There was plenty left out! And they live in the lake, mostly, anyway." Ethan watched with widening eyes as a stray mersheep Fang had missed wandered a bit too close to the Whomping Willow and was batted thirty yards through the air like a baaing badminton birdie. It lay motionless for a moment, then picked itself up, shook itself off, and staggered back over to the rest of the flock, none the worse for wear. Was that a regular occurrence?

Before Ethan could ask, they were spiraling down towards the lawn, which was empty except for Hagrid and his flock. Fawkes stopped and hovered several feet above the lawn.

"Climb on out and follow me. We can take your stuff to your room before we go to Diagon Alley."

"My room? But I haven't been sorted yet! And where _is_ everyone?"

"Kid, you're the main character. You're going to be in Gryffindor. If that senile old rag of a hat tries to put you anywhere else during the sorting tonight, just threaten to burn it. That usually works. And everyone else arrives tonight; we're just a bit early." Fawkes set the hammock on the ground and picked up Ethan's suitcase, then started flapping towards the gate. Ethan jogged to keep up, wincing at the stiffness in his legs.

If the outside of Hogwarts castle was impressive, it was nothing compared to the inside. The moving portraits took one look at Ethan and immediately began whispering amongst themselves and pointing at him. The phrase "main character" pursued him down the halls as Fawkes led him towards the Gryffindor common room. Ethan immediately began keeping track of where they were going, more than a little bit worried about becoming lost in the numerous corridors. Left, right, up a staircase, right, behind the giant tapestry of a dragon, left, up another staircase, right, right, right, right

"You led us in a circle!" Ethan accused. Fawkes laughed nastily.

"Heh heh heh sorry, kid, it's this way"

A few minutes later, they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Fawkes obtained the password by holding a flaming pinion inches from the canvas. "It's all over if you don't sing, Fat Lady!" he had cackled maliciously as she whimpered and clutched at her pink dress. They were admitted with astounding swiftness, and Ethan got the impression that he would never need a password again.

They passed through the scarlet and gold common room, with its numerous squashy chairs and couches, and up the stairs to the boys dormitories. Ethan pushed open the door marked "first-years" and dumped his suitcase at the foot of one of the beds. A blank, brass nameplate on the wood automatically engraved itself with Ethan's name.

"Well, that's done. Now we have to go to Diagon Alley and get your things"

"Can we get breakfast somewhere?" Ethan asked as they climbed (or flew) out of the portrait hole, the Fat Lady watching them with wide, frightened eyes.

"Yeah, we can make a pit stop in Hogsmeade." Fawkes led Ethan back out of the castle and picked the hammock back up. "Sit yourself down; it's a short flight."

Hogsmeade, to Ethan's surprise (and slight dismay) had a McDonald's complete with a fly-thru window. The owners had clearly tried to make the restaurant look and seem magical and mysterious, but its golden arches were still evident beneath the swarms of pixies. He didn't even have to leave the hammock to order his meal (which he received free as soon as the young wizard in the window got a good look at him). Inside five minutes they were heading towards Diagon Alley through the clear morning sky, Ethan munching on his Expecto Egg McMuffin and slurping a "Bubbling Bludger Brew" that tasted suspiciously like regular Coke.

Fawkes flew much faster than usual, as he was really getting tired of carrying the hammock around (and Ethan was really tired of both sitting in it and hearing Fawkes complain about it). They reached Diagon Alley within an hour and landed in a small, empty alleyway. Ethan stumbled gratefully out of the hammock, and Fawkes incinerated it with relish. Two charred metal rings were all that was left, and they clinked as they struck the cobblestones.

"Here, you can carry _me_ for a while," Fawkes grumbled, landing on Ethan's shoulder. "First stop is Gringott's. Head out of this alleyway and take a right."

Boy and bird walked up Diagon Alley, Ethan taking as much of it in as he could. The street was full of witches and wizards and their families, all chattering and jostling together, a pickpocket's dream. On each side there were fascinating shops, everything from apothecaries to cafés (it was bad, Ethan decided, when you couldn't quite tell the difference) to owleries. And up ahead were the large marble columns of Gringott's.

"Fawkes," Ethan said softly, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he was speaking to a bird, "I don't have any money here. All I have is an ATM card."

"You worry too much, kid. Dumblebum set up an account for you and deposited two busy-galleons in it, so you're set."

"From what I've read, two galleons isn't going to buy me all of my things!"

"These aren't galleons, they're busy-galleons."

"Well, what the heck are busy-galleons?"

"Galleons that get busy," Fawkes said with a suggestive snigger. Ethan stared at the bird for a long moment.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me." He shook his head. "Even if there is such a thing as money that can can _breed_ it _can't_ be legal."

"Hey, Dumbledore set it up so the bank gets every coin's firstborn, so the goblins are making a tidy sum out of the deal. And making tidy sums is about all _they_ care about."

"But if every busy-galleon makes more busy-galleons, then that means the money in my account is going to grow exponentially until it I dunno, bursts out and starts flooding the streets!"

"They start slowing down once they run out of room," Fawkes explained as Ethan climbed up the wide steps. "What did I just tell you about worrying, anyway?! Clean out your ears, bucko!"

"Sorry, sorry," Ethan muttered under his breath as he passed into the dark, cool interior of the bank. A long counter ran down one wall, at which sat dozens of goblins scribbling on parchments, counting coins, and measuring precious stones on scales.

"Okay," Fawkes said, "see that particularly ugly one on the end with the nose that looks like something's been chewing on it? Walk up to him and tell him who you are."

Ethan approached the goblin, glancing at Fawkes for reassurance. The bird had produced a cigarette from somewhere and was lighting up again.

"Um," Ethan said timidly. The goblin looked up from the fist-sized emerald it had been polishing and sneered at him, revealing a mouthful of small, sharp teeth. "H-hello I'm, er, Ethan Williams." The sneer became more pronounced, if anything.

"Not your _name_, nitwit!" Fawkes blew a smoke ring. "Your _title_!"

"I don't have a title," Ethan whispered vehemently back, "I'm just a _boy_!" The goblin raised an eyebrow; he had never seen anyone start chirping angrily at a bird before.

"Tell him," Fawkes explained slowly, as if Ethan didn't understand English, "that you're the _main character_."

"Fine." Ethan turned back up to the goblin. "I'm the main character."

"Ah!" The goblin's features split into an ingratiating and quite scary smile. "Of course! Griphook here will assist you." He snapped his fingers, and a goblin with somewhat shifty eyes and a pointy beard leaped forward and bowed.

"Right this way, sir." The goblin led Ethan to a small wooden cart on a set of metal tracks, looking like a very cheap roller coaster. Ethan climbed in, and a moment later they were rocketing deep underground, bright orange blurs of torchlight whooshing by on either side. Ethan gripped the sides of the cart and prayed that it would be over soon; Fawkes started swearing a blue streak when the rushing air snatched his cigarette from his beak and tumbled it out of sight.

Just as Ethan was starting to wonder how deep Gringott's could possibly go, the cart screeched to a halt. Ethan climbed out, legs trembling slightly, feeling both exhilarated and on the verge of collapse. Fawkes lit up again, grumbling incoherently.

"Vault number five thousand, two hundred and eighty-seven!" Griphook announced. Then the goblin stood aside and looked expectantly at Ethan.

"Um," Ethan said nervously, looking down at the goblin. In a moment of extreme unhelpfulness, Fawkes took a long drag and blew a stream of smoke down the tunnel. Ethan gave the bird an annoyed look, then turned back to Griphook. "Uh, is there something I should be doing?"

"It's quite simple," Griphook said with his own variation of the trademark large, scary grin. "You must run your finger down it, like this -" he demonstrated, and almost immediately disappeared with a quiet pop. A muffled "shit" emanated from behind the door.

'You've got to be kidding me,' Ethan thought, eyeing the door with considerable trepidation. "Isn't it supposed to work the other way around?" he said aloud.

"What _is_ it with you and going on about everything?!" Fawkes demanded, tapping ash off the end of his cigarette. "Just because you've read the books doesn't make you a friggin' expert, kid! Now do what the damn goblin said; we haven't got all day!"

"All right," Ethan said, nettled. He reached out and ran his index finger down the door. It swung open with a creak, revealing an embarrassed looking Griphook and a mound of galleons that nearly reached the ceiling. "Whoa."

"As you can see," Griphook said, "no one but yourself may enter your vault and be able to leave."

"Right," Ethan said dazedly, still gaping at the towering piles of gold.

"Just grab one or two and stick 'em in your pocket," Fawkes advised, ruffling his feathers. Ethan obeyed, grabbing three to be safe and slipping them into the pockets of his jeans. A few minutes later, they were rocketing back up the tunnel.

As Ethan stepped gratefully out of the bank and into the sunshine, Fawkes told him to check his pockets. Already there were five galleons in one pocket and three in the other. The boy couldn't decide if the fact that his money was getting jiggy in his pocket was fascinatingly convenient or disturbing and slightly wrong.

"All right, kid," Fawkes said, flicking his cigarette away, "time to get your school supplies."

[====]==============

This may seem like a bad place to cut off, but if I didn't, _this_ chapter would be a doozy and every chapter afterwards would seem woefully short by comparison. And we don't want that. I can, however, tell you that you are going to enjoy the next chapter very much! Muahaha!

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Pointy Ears Are My Thing: Well, I'm glad you're enjoying the fic, but sad that I made you wet your pants, even if you did have protection. :P

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Vanyaria Darkshadow: Your review honestly made my day! I got all teary when I read it. Thanks so much!! (hug)

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Skimbleshanks: Good way, bad way (shrugs) And the reason that I didn't include lyrics is because I don't think I could have written any of them down in good conscious. ;-)

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Anamaria Elentari: Enjoy your plushie, hehehehe. I'm surprised at the positive reaction Fawkes has been getting.

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Billy Idol of Platypi: Hehehe, Legolas if I wasn't already doing a LOTR-HP crossover with Nigel, I would. As of right now, I think Ethan's enough, lol.

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Witch of Darkness: Glad you like my characterization of Fawkes so much! Yes, Ethan at Hogwarts shall be interesting. So shall Ethan doing his school shopping, muahaha!

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christy the badger: Fawkes has his own stash, I imagine. Maybe he keeps them under his feathers, or steals them from passerby. He's a phoenix; he has his methods, I'm sure. :P

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Fuji the Hobbit: Well, the next few chapters, for sure. He seems to prefer Ethan's company to anyone else's. Thanks!

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TheSiriusSparrow: The good news, yes it does. The bad news, only parrotmouths can understand it. Wait, that is also probably good news anyway, thanks for the review! :D

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phaidra: Glad you liked phoenix song, hehe. You wouldn't have liked it if you had heard it!

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Ember the Angry Firedrake: The plushie sings, you just won't hear the lyrics, hehehe. And this chapter ended up being longer than I had originally planned, so NEXT chapter will be the fun one.

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Kathryn Bushore: Hysterical is a fun word, isn't it? No one wants to know what he sang. It was awful and emotionally scarring for poor Ethan.

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FrighteninglyObsessed: Well, not literal torture. Fawkes is really feeling the love right now, sheesh

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Hirilnara: Muahahahaha! I've corrupted you! Good look keeping pure, hehehe! _I_ don't even know the words, all I know is that it was bad. And Fawkes is currently taking the opportunity to blow off all of the steam he's been keeping in for so long he'll get a bit nicer as the fic progresses and he runs out of things to rant about. ;-)

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The Weaseling Dragon: Here I was, assuming that everyone already knew cigarettes were dangerous. Silly me. :-P Hope this is up soon enough for you not that I condone procrastination or anything 

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Lady Lifecharm: Well, if you didn't have a least favorite part, that's good enough for me! Thanks!

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morph: It's great having reviewers who watch my back, hehehe. Phoenix song as become suddenly very, very ironic, hasn't it? :-P

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McLean: Aww, no problem. I'm just glad you're reading it and liking it!

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Katie115: (Jack Sparrow accent) That's verrrry interesting. :P

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Laire: Comedies always are more fun plus, novelty is more fun as well. I mean, look at me; this is chapter four of this fic, and I haven't updated the Sequel since I started this! Shame on me that's going to have to be my next project.

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D6: Well, considering that Fawkes is going to be around yes. Yes, there will be considerable Harry bashing. ;-)

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Rachel the Insane Unicorn: High one, then! I'm kinda surprised at how Fawkes is reminding some people of real people. Weird. And slightly disturbing. Glad you like it!

Yay for my reviewers! Two busy-galleons for everyone! Fwahahaha!

-Platy


	5. Shopping

And it's time for some more hoggy warty goodness! I don't own Harry Potter, alas. If I did, I would be somewhere exotic having hot boys wait on me. By the way, there is currently an amusing article on The Onion (theonion . com) about J.K. Rowling stopping the series because she's discovered boys. ;-) Quite amusing.

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Ethan looked down Diagon Alley, suddenly very overwhelmed. He hadn't even been given a list of what to purchase! All he had ever been given was that acceptance letter, which he was pretty sure he'd left on his dresser.

As if reading his mind, Fawkes spoke. "Don't worry, kid, it's all up here." He gestured to his head and coughed a few times. Ethan found it profoundly unreassuring, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

"So, where should we go first? Madame Malkin's?" Ethan nodded towards the crowded-looking shop.

"Madame _Malkin's_?!" Fawkes let out a raspy cackle, and several witches looked at him in slight alarm. "Don't be stupid. If you want good, stylin' robes, you'll go to Madame Versace's."

"Versace is a _witch_?!" Ethan asked in disbelief, after biting back a comment about not having the money. Judging by the bulginess of his pockets, he had galleons to burn.

"Of course she is hopped up on floo powder half the time, too. But we'll handle your clothes later. First stop is Ollivander's; we have to get you a wand."

"Right," Ethan said nervously, following Fawke's directions to the old shop. It was deserted, which struck Ethan as more than a little foreboding considering the throng of people outside. To make things worse, there was a small sign outside that said "NO PETS!" in a bossy tone of voice as they approached. "NO PETS" was also written on the sign for the hearing-impaired.

"I'm not a _pet_," Fawkes said, voice dripping with disgust. "But I don't want the old geezer to soil himself. I'll just wait out here." He settled on top of the "NO PETS" sign and took a generous dump down the front, snickering quietly to himself. Ethan wrinkled his nose and pushed his way into the shop, silent except for the quiet tinkle of the bell over the door.

He stood on the dusty floorboards and looked around. Every available flat surface was buried under slim, neatly stacked boxes. His natural boy instincts to poke around were squashed by the nagging fear that Ollivander would notice if anything had been touched.

Before Ethan's internal battle could go definitively one way or the other, a wispy-haired man with pale, bulging eyes emerged from the back room, looking like some sort of cave creature that was only just now seeing the light of the sun. Mr. Ollivander blinked a few times, then looked down at Ethan.

"Ah. The main character. I wondered when I'd be seeing you."

'How in the hell does everyone _know_?' Ethan thought to himself as he smiled weakly at the old man. Did he have it stamped on his forehead? 'No pun intended,' he added wryly to himself.

"A wand worthy of a main character," Ollivander said softly to himself, eyes scanning the shelves. He darted to the side with surprising swiftness and agility for an old guy and was back at Ethan's side a moment later. "Try this one. Willow, twelve inches, dragon heartstring." He thrust the wand into the bewildered boy's hand. "Give it a wave!"

"Uh, right," Ethan said, swallowing nervously. He stretched his arm out and gave the wand a timid wave.

The roof fell in.

"Ah not that one, then." Mr. Ollivander repaired the damage with a wave of his own wand while Ethan coughed. Fawkes had been watching the street with bland interest, but now turned around to watch Ethan through the window. Apparently the boy was giving a better show than the passerby go figure. As Ethan caught his breath, the willow wand was snatched away and another was pressed into his hand. "Here. Mahogany, eleven inches, unicorn hair."

Ethan looked dubiously from the wand to Ollivander and back. The man was smiling eagerly, as if nothing delighted him more than the potential for disaster, except possibly disaster itself. Ethan gave the wand a tiny wave.

The roof stayed in place. Mr. Ollivander's underwear, however, jumped two feet to the left. Red boxers embroidered with tiny golden snitches hovered in midair. 'Well, at least they're boxers,' Ethan thought in a pathetic attempt at optimism. He could hear Fawkes laughing through the glass.

Mr. Ollivander didn't look the least bit perturbed. An instant later, Ethan found himself with a new wand. "Holly, thirteen inches, phoenix tailfeather!"

That sounded suspiciously like Harry's wand. Ethan wrinkled his brow and waved it. A long streamer shot out of the end and promptly began spelling insults in the air.

_Mr. Ollivander smells like poo! _The streamer spelled happily. Ethan wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. To see Mr. Ollivander, however, you would think this sort of thing happened daily.

_Ollivander is a wanker!_

The holly wand was removed, though the banner remained. "Here!" Ollivander said with a flourish, handing Ethan yet another wand. "Try this one! Teak, ten inches, dragon heartstring, excellent for transfiguration!"

_Normally, Ollivander wears women's panties!_

With a little, despairing sigh, Ethan held the wand as far away from himself as he could and twitched it.

There was a loud crunching sound. Ethan whirled around and looked out the window just in time to see a giant chasm open in the middle of the street. Dozens of witches and wizards tumbled into the void, wailing.

"That's the one, kid!" Fawkes said over the screaming, laughing so hard that he was crying (and unwittingly repairing small potholes in the cobblestones below wherever his tears struck the ground). "Perfect! Absolutely bloody brilliant!"

"Ahh," Ethan said, gingerly setting the wand down on an exposed bit of counter and backing away from it. "Sorry about that"

"Oh dear" Ollivander stepped outside, Ethan trailing miserably behind him.

_Ollivander is the most inept salesman the world has ever seen! _The banner whooshed gleefully through the rafters.

It took Mr. Ollivander a full five minutes to return things to their normal state, Ethan apologizing profusely to anyone who would listen. Most of them saw that he was the main character and brushed it off with a grin and a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Finally the repairs were finished, and they went back into the shop. The boxers were still hovering quietly in the middle of the room, and the banner was just finishing what looked like a jab at Ollivander's ancestry.

"Let's see," Ollivander mused with an air of slight desperation that hadn't been there before. He looked more concerned now with damage control than with finding the right wand, and Ethan really couldn't blame him. The old man frowned pensively at the shelves for a while, then pulled down a box and opened it. "Ash. Twelve inches. Phoenix feather." He held out the open box. Ethan carefully removed the wand as if it was made of something very fragile.

_If Ollivander was a fruit, he - wait, he already is one!_

Ethan looked at Mr. Ollivander for reassurance, which turned out to be a mistake as the man was currently bracing himself against some furniture and trying to look like he wasn't. Biting his lower lip, Ethan gave the wand a healthy wave.

Immediately, the shop filled with sunshine and birdsong. Ollivander squinted painfully against the sudden ocular onslaught; the floorboards were quickly covered in grass and a babbling brook began to meander its way across the shop.

"Ah," Ollivander said once his eyes had adjusted, looking immensely relieved. "That's the one, then. That'll be three galleons."

Ethan dug eagerly into his pocket and paid for his wand as quickly as he could without appearing rude (though he dropped the galleons once when a deer came up out of nowhere and nuzzled his arm), and backed out of the shop with a relieved sigh.

"You should have gone with the last one, kid," said a disappointed Fawkes as he settled himself on Ethan's shoulder. "It suited you."

"Oh, sure," Ethan muttered sarcastically. "What better way to make friends here than by opening chasms wherever I go?"

"Hey, it could have been a useful trick during that whole Chamber of Secrets ordeal," Fawkes argued with a few hacking coughs.

"Wait," Ethan stopped dead, forcing Fawkes to spread his wings to stay balanced. "I just paid Ollivander with busy-galleons! What if -"

"Kid," Fawkes interrupted flatly. "Again with the _worrying_! Sheesh! Do you honestly think Dumbledore would breed busy-galleons too stupid to know when they'd been used to buy something? They stop multiplying once they're spent, or else they'd be pretty useless, wouldn't they?" The bird shook his head, leaving Ethan feeling a bit more foolish than he really should have.

Luckily, there were no more episodes like that one in Ollivander's shop, so the rest of the morning passed uneventfully. By lunchtime, Ethan had his books, his cauldron, his potions ingredients and his robes. He was trying to decide whether he wanted a pet or not; Fawkes might not hang around forever, and it would be nice to have someone to talk to if the other students totally rejected him (something he was fairly positive they would do). And if he got an owl that was good with long flights, he wouldn't have to worry about making any of the school owls carry his letters home, or be forced to entrust the letter to any birds of lesser intelligence (he was still a bit worried about that albatross).

"Fawkes," Ethan said as he munched on a sandwich from the Leaky Cauldron, "should I get an owl?" They were sitting on a bench out in the sunlight, Ethan's pile of wizarding merchandise beside them. Fawkes was perched on the arm of the bench, smoking pensively. "I mean, could an owl even carry a letter all the way across the ocean? Or am I going to have to keep finding seagulls?"

"Of course an owl can carry a letter that far. That's what they're bred to do," Fawkes said, blowing a series of smoke rings and putting slight emphasis on the word 'they're'. "You could always get a school owl to take any letters; but if you really want one, get one."

"Will you be nice to it?" Ethan asked, looking sideways at the phoenix as he chewed.

"What are you implying?"

"I just don't want to buy something you're going to clash with."

"Then don't get something green. That would look too Christmas-y."

"I'm not talking about color, Fawkes! If I get an owl, you have to promise to be friendly, okay?"

"Fine, fine. I do have _some_ sense of common courtesy." Fawkes flicked the cigarette away, nearly setting alight the hem of someone's robes. "I'll keep an eye on your stuff; go pick out your bloody pigeon."

"Thanks," Ethan said, standing up and brushing sandwich crumbs off his lap. "If anyone touches anything, singe 'em."

"Now you're speaking my language!" Fawkes cackled. "With _pleasure_!"

Ethan grinned and walked over to the owlery. It was very dark inside, but full of little noises, like the clicking of talons on wooden perches and the rustles of feathers and the occasional muffled hoot. Every kind of owl Ethan had ever seen and then some was present, from tiny elf owls to hulking great horned owls. And all of them were looking at him intently.

Ethan hadn't said anything, but he knew from experience that most birds could tell he was a parrotmouth almost immediately. However, birds rarely made the first move in initiating a conversation. After all, just because someone _could_ talk to you didn't necessarily mean that they _wanted_ to. So Ethan was allowed to look around the shop in peace, without owls clamoring to be bought. The shopkeeper was frowning up at the birds, noticing their sudden, relative silence. Ethan nodded at the man and wandered around a corner, several owls leaning out to get a better look at him.

There was one owl that wasn't facing at him. It was sitting off to one side, slightly hunched over and looking a bit resentful. It also, Ethan noticed with some concern, was completely surrounded by empty perches. The other owls were nestled wing-to-wing and watching him with bright eyes; this owl looked like it wanted nothing to do with anyone.

"Excuse me," Ethan said quietly to the bird. The shopkeeper nodded to himself in sudden understanding and went back to scribbling in his ledger. The owl peered back at Ethan with large, dark eyes.

"What?" it asked sulkily. It sounded quite young.

"You're sitting by yourself," Ethan observed. The owl looked away.

"They pick on me 'cause I'm not a native," it said quietly. "I'm from across the ocean."

"So am I," Ethan said with a tiny smile. It was a barred owl; he had seen one once. They were smaller than great horned owls, but still fairly weighty. It wasn't likely to get blown off course. The owl looked back over its shoulder at Ethan.

"Really?" It shuffled around on the perch until it was facing him. Its dark eyes looked even darker next to its yellow beak, and its cream-colored breast was decorated with a pattern of numerous, vertical, thin brown bars. "There were others here like me, but they've been bought." It looked curiously up at Ethan. "Why are you here?"

"I'm going to school here. I'm worried the kids will make fun of me, too because I'm different." The owl looked at him silently for a long moment. "Do you want to come with me?" Ethan ventured. "Then we'd both have someone to talk to. And if you like, you can carry letters to my mom; she lives across the ocean. And if you had family there, you could visit them." The owl looked thoughtfully down at its feet. "You'd be out of here, anyway," Ethan said with a shrug.

There was a long pause, during which neither moved. Then Ethan shrugged again, turned, and started to walk away.

He had nearly reached the end of the aisle when there was a frantic flapping sound from behind him. A moment later, the owl landed heavily on Ethan's right shoulder.

"I'll come with you," it said. Ethan grinned.

"Do you have a name?" The owl gave a long, complicated hoot that sounded like "Oru hu'huuuunaa." "Right. How about shortening that up a bit?"

"Erm Ruhuunaa?"

"What about just Ruhún? I can call you your full name when I'm talking to you, but other people are going to want a name they can pronounce."

"That'll work," the owl said after giving it some thought.

A minute later, the owl was paid for. It opted to sit on Ethan's shoulder, not much liking the look of the cages available. They left the owlery in favor of the now thinning crowds outside. Fawkes was perched over Ethan's things and looking positively ferocious.

"That's Fawkes," Ethan explained. "He's a bit strange, but he's very nice. He's not a pet, he's just helping me shop."

"Am I a pet?" Ruhún asked, looking nervously over at Fawkes.

"No, you're a friend," Ethan said firmly. "Come on, we'll go meet Fawkes."

[====]==============

Well, there's that! Hope you enjoyed! It got a bit sentimental at the end there, didn't it? Whoops. :-P For more information on barred owls, including photos and call recordings, visit (minus the spaces) http : owlpages . com / species / strix / varia / Default . htm

See if you can find the pic I based Ruhún off of. ;-) And I know the name may have sounded a bit dorky, but if you listen to the calls, you'll understand why.

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Quirky Writer: It's quite all right. I'm glad you think it's funnier than the Mockfest I'm kind of leaning that way myself. :-P And I don't know where these ideas come from. It involves a lack of sleep, though.

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Aindel S. Druida: Why, thank you! :D And I don't think she has but thanks for reccing my fic to other people!

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The Weaseling Dragon: Huzzah for the end of exams! Hope you liked this chapter!

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Batgirl Beyond: Thanks! You flatter me terribly! (blushes)

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Fuji the Hobbit: Don't worry, Fawkes isn't going anywhere any time soon! Fake fighting is fun; the old roomy and I scared the crap out of our RA freshman year, hehe.

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Syth Colbalt: Aww, poor badly written fics. :-P I feel so terrible. And Ethan yeah, being the main character is no fun at all.

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TheSiriusSparrow: Just take the galleons to a pawnshop and tell them they're solid gold replicas of the props used in the HP movies. Then you won't have to worry about cheap transportation. ;-) Just make sure you always keep a few.

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Leo Cole: Sorry! I thought you knew! :-P And my work schedule shifts around a lot, so hopefully we'll be able to talk soon. Hehehe, I'll stay off the sidewalks, then! ;-)

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Kath: Gotta love the obscure Minnesota references! Don't forget MIT! :-P MERSHEEP!

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LilyFire: Yay, glad you like it! Here's more!

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Medea12: Awww! You're reviews always make me teary! You're so nice! (dabs at eyes) It's very nice to know my work is appreciated; thank you so much! (hugs) I'll always continue to share them as long as there are people like you reading them!

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Kathryn Bushore: One time someone called my room and thought it was the switchboard and wanted me to transfer them to the campus bookstore. That was surreal, since they called in the morning and woke me up. Thanks!

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Ember the angry Firedrake: You don't give them the talk, you just let them go at it. ;-) Look, I've updated!

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morph: Thanks, and hopefully I shall! Just don't spend 'em all at once. ;-)

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D6: Why, thank you. And try sticking them under a stream of cold water. That does it.

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Skimbleshanks: ALL the main characters get Griphook, silly! And since he's shopping, there are still some similarities. It's purposeful, you see. But I do try to exaggerate things (like the disasters as Ethan is trying out wands and the Disney scene that results from him getting the right one). As the story goes on, it'll branch out, don't worry. And you can have BGOTWSP as soon as I'm done revamping it.

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Lady Lifecharm: Hehehe, thanks a bunch! I don't know how either, but if I did, I'd bottle it and sell it! :-P

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ElvishNature: YOU'RE BACK! (tacklehug!) I resent the term "perv" I prefer to say that my mind is "habitat-challenged," thank you very much. And the busy-galleons are very quiet they have to be discreet, or they'd be confiscated. Hehehe. Glad you respect Fawkes; if you didn't, he'd hunt you down and MAKE you. Thanks!

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Laire: Oh, it will be I hope. Naughty? Me? :-P

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Vanyaria Darkshadow: Sorry this chapter wasn't quite so quick I had to update the Sequel so my LOTR fans wouldn't hurt me. :-P I haven't read "Bored of the Rings," but I want to. I have, however, read "Barry Trotter and the Unauthorized Parody," which is quite amusing. Thanks so much for the long review and extensive praise; it really made my day! Between you and Medea, I'm going to get a big head. :D

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Anamaria Elentari: I agree; weird is definitely preferable to normal! Enjoy your busy-galleons, hehehe! And I didn't forget about the Sequel! Glad you think I'm abnormal in a good way, hee! XD

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Katie115: Yeah, I know it dragged a bit, but hopefully this one was better! And this is taking place during book 6, whatever that one will be called. So I'm going to be making it all up as I go. And there will be a new DADA teacher! I just can't decide whether I want the teacher to be good or awful. ;-)

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purplestainedglass: The best kind of money!

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Spoofmaster: Nope! But thanks for pointing that out, or else it would have been a plothole. Can't have those! Yeah, galleons would become like lira those made shopping in Italy frustrating thank Jeebus for the Euro, I say!

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FrighteninglyObsessed: Mersheep would make interesting pets, that's for darn sure. Sorry for making Fawkes so damn cool, it won't happen again. :-P

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Pointy Ears Are My Thing: Well, at least you know that if money breeds, you'll just get more money and not an axe murderer or something.

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Hirilnara: We have no rumors here concerning Essex girls, hehehe. "Essex that's somewhere in England, right?" Oh, I hope you can update soon! I love that fic! And not just because I'm now in it!

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Rachel the Insane Unicorn: I thought it was better than the first two, too! So good! But that freeze-frame was a bit odd, I agree. Yay Fawkes! Hehehe.

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Phaidra: There may be some mild Harry bashing. I'm thinking he isn't going to be too nice to Ethan, since poor Ethan will be stealing his limelight. :-P I'll try to make Snape and Malfoy cool. Bwahaha!

Well, there you have it! Thanks for all of your reviews! MERSHEEP FOR EVERYONE!

-Platy


	6. Security

I know it's been ages since I updated I was feeling uninspired and didn't want to post anything crappy but I have good news! I actually have A PLOT! And an (extremely rough) OUTLINE! FOR THIS FIC! (bounces) Do you realize how rare it is for me to actually PLAN OUT a fic and not just BS my way through it until it's time for it to end?? So, although it took me a bit to actually get to writing this chapter, I HAVE been doing a good deal of work on this fic as a whole over the last few weeks. I've even decided who the new DADA teacher is going to be! But you aren't going to meet him or her until either chapter eight (if I'm feeling friendly) or chapter nine (if I'm feeling eeeevil). Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to that. I own Ethan, and I own Ruhún. ;-) Some of Fawkes's dialogue has been edited to preserve the PG-13 rating. Just know that anything in brackets like [this] isn't _quite_ what he said.

[====]==============

Fawkes was actually nicer to Ruhún than Ethan could have hoped or even really thought possible. Clearly, the phoenix was on his best behavior.

Midway through a conversation on what their next move would be, Fawkes stiffened on his perch and hissed something rude under his breath.

"What is it?" Ethan asked, frowning at the bird.

"Dumblebum wants something back in a tick." With a whoosh and a burst of flame, the phoenix disappeared.

"What just happened?" Ruhún stared wide-eyed at the now slightly scorched back of the bench Fawkes had been perched on.

"No idea though he did say he'd be back soon." Ethan looked with increased nervousness at the still-thinning crowd of shoppers. With Fawkes gone, he had no real way to defend himself or even know what was really going on. Sure, he was technically a part of this world, but that didn't mean he was familiar with it. He felt very trapped, despite the open air and pleasant atmosphere.

Before Ethan could worry any more, Fawkes reappeared, looking irritated. "Looks like we're not done shopping after all," the bird grumbled. "We have to get you a trunk for all of your things and a broom."

"A broom?" Ethan's eyes widened. "You mean, like the riding kind?"

"Of course the riding kind! You're the main character, not a bloody janitor!" The bird hacked a few times, making Ruhún flinch. Ethan was used to it by now.

"But I've never flown before you might as well buy me a car, for all the use it'll be!"

"Oh, you'll be a natural," Fawkes snapped impatiently. "Anyway, you need a way to get to the train station."

"The train station?"

"Did I stutter?" The phoenix produced yet another cigarette from somewhere and promptly lit up. Ruhún was swiveling his head back and forth to watch the argument, having little idea what was going on.

"Why would I need to go to the train station? I thought we were just going to go back to Hogwarts."

"You're the main character, and you're going to ride the bloody train like everyone else. It's how you make friends a bonding sort of thing." The phoenix exhaled a thin stream of smoke in the general direction of a baby, and Ethan sat on his hands to keep from smacking the bird's beak.

"So let me get this straight," Ethan said slowly, "I buy a trunk and a broom, put my things in the trunk and lash it all to the broom or something, somehow manage to fly the broom to the train station without either being seen by muggles or plummeting to my death, and then ride the train back to Hogwarts?"

"That's about it." Fawkes flicked the cigarette at a passing wizard, missed, and swore loudly.

"When I could, you know, theoretically just hop on the broom and go straight back to Hogwarts."

"Preeeeecisely." Fawkes coughed.

"That seems stupid." Ethan said flatly.

"Welcome to the world of magic, kid."

[====]==============

Twenty minutes later, Ethan had procured a medium-sized black trunk just large enough to hold his things and a broom Fawkes had insisted was state-of-the-art. It had been in its own window display, on sale for 45% off, and covered in a generous layer of dust. Ethan had found the look of it slightly disconcerting he couldn't quite say why, but something about the broom made him nervous.

"I'm serious, kid this baby is one-of-a-kind!" Fawkes nodded at the broom, which was leaning against the fully-packed trunk.

"Why was the shopkeeper so eager to get rid of it, then?" Ethan asked, looking dubiously at the broom. It was gray with a stick that looked a bit too gnarled to be comfortable, and the twigs were cruelly thin frankly, Ethan though it looked like a broom you would beat someone with, not something you would ride around for fun.

"Well, it's unique you know, most wizards couldn't _handle_ a broom like this. But I have faith in you, kid. You'll make me proud."

Ethan stared at Fawkes for a long moment. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing's wrong with it! It's a bloody good broom!"

_"What's wrong with it?"_

"Eh, fine." Fawkes ruffled his feathers. "It was made from a branch off the Whomping Willow."

_"What?!?!"_ Ethan hissed, taking a step backwards. "Fawkes, it'll kill me!"

"Will not!" Fawkes said indignantly. "Firstly, you're the main character! Wouldn't be much of a bloody story if you died six chapters in, would it?! And secondly, it isn't you who'll have to worry, it's anyone else who gets within ten feet of you while you're in the air. It'll make a great Quidditch broom any player gets too close, and BAM! Heh heh heh" Fawkes's snickering degenerated into a nasty coughing fit.

"Who says I'm even going to play Quidditch?" Ethan shook his head. "I'm taking it back."

"Shopkeeper wouldn't have it back for anything, kid. You're stuck with it," Fawkes said with a shrug after he had finished hacking. "Might as well get used to it. Climb on, give it a try!"

"I've never flown before, and now you want me to hop up on the equivalent of a a bucking bronco?!" Ethan shook his head furiously. "I can't _believe_ you, Fawkes!"

"Oh, quit whining and get on the damn broom," Fawkes said, grabbing the trunk in his talons. "We're going to be late for the train!"

"I thought it left in the early morning," Ethan said, looking pointedly at a clock tower that read half past eleven.

"Well, they leave later now so the trains and passengers can all be thoroughly checked for bombs," Fawkes said, lifting the trunk into the air. "Now just throw your leg over that puppy and kick off so we can go, eh?"

"Right," Ethan said, looking nervously at the broom. He held a hand over it like he had seen them do in the first movie and said, "UP!" Only he was nervous and not too eager to fly, so it came out more like, " up?"

Despite his less-than-eager command, the broom snapped up into his hand with startling alacrity, giving the boy several splinters. Ethan winced, then threw a leg over the broom. To his surprise, it didn't feel like he was balancing precariously on a thin and rather knobby shaft of wood, it felt as if he were settling onto a flat cushion. Well, that was a relief, at least. It was bad enough that he had splinters in his hand.

"Erm good luck, then," Ruhún said, hurriedly leaving his perch on Ethan's shoulder and circling a safe distance away.

"Thanks," Ethan said weakly, then shut his eyes and kicked off.

The broom had been sitting on the shelf for a good long while, and was more than eager to get into the air. Ethan found himself hurling upward at what must have been at least 60 miles per hour, clinging desperately to the broomstick and screaming bloody murder.

"See, kid?" Fawkes shouted from a good distance below the young wizard. "Isn't it _great_?"

"I HATE YOU FAAAAAAAAUUUGGHHHHHH!!!" Ethan was forced to wrap his legs around the broom as it did several gleeful barrel rolls. For what was probably only a minute but felt like longer, the broom swooped in crazy arcs through the air with Ethan clinging to it for dear life, Diagon Alley a shrinking, whirling blur beneath them. Finally, after a particularly enthusiastic loop-the-loop, the broom settled into a more or less horizontal position, with Ethan perched, trembling, on the top.

"Are you all right?" Ruhún flapped up, huffing slightly at the vertical climb.

"Never been better," Ethan squeaked in a voice several octaves higher than normal. He gingerly pried one hand off of the broomstick, shook it out, and then repeated the process with the other hand.

"You see? I told you you'd be a natural! Didn't I tell you?" Fawkes hovered a healthy distance away, still clutching the trunk.

"A _natural_?!" Ethan glared at the bird. "All I did was hold on!"

"And that's all there is to it," Fawkes said evenly. "Now come on, the station's this way don't follow too close, now, I don't fancy a tail-full of twigs"

Ethan leaned forward slightly, and the broom carried him forward at a surprisingly decent pace. The boy silently marveled at its cooperative tendencies all the way to the station, the only mishap occurring when a duck flew too close and the broom swished at it violently, forcing Ethan to hold on tight to keep from being unseated. Ruhún and Fawkes wisely stayed at least twenty feet away from it at all times.

They reached the station fairly quickly, especially considering the fact that Ethan was a far cry from a confident flyer and tended to poke along, much to Fawke's frustration ("That broom can go from zero to sixty in nothing flat, and you're going what, fifteen, tops?! Why didn't you just buy a bicycle?! I've seen a bloody dirigible go ten _times_ faster than this!"). The (by that time) very irritable phoenix directed Ethan to land in a dark alleyway near the station. Ethan managed to land without too much difficulty, and tumbled gratefully off of the Whomping Broomstick. A short trot down a sidewalk later and they were amongst the crowds in King's Cross station.

Ethan was profoundly grateful for the movies at this point. He managed to find the barrier between platforms nine and ten fairly quickly, which was a very good thing. He had been getting lots of strange looks from the muggles, which wasn't really surprising. He had Ruhún on one shoulder, the bird's beak buried bashfully under Ethan's ear; Fawkes was perched on the other with a freshly lit cigarette in his beak, unconcerned with the suspicious murmurs of passerby. In one hand, Ethan carried the trunk, and in the other was the nasty-looking broom. The trunk was considerably heavier than the broom as well, causing the boy to walk with a jolting, lop-sided gait. To top it all off, he had the broom tightly tucked under his arm in an attempt to prevent it from whacking muggles who got too close, and wasn't entirely successful. Several people had had their legs whomped smartly, and one businessman had his briefcase swiped from his grasp and sent skittering along the concrete. A uniformed man was heading purposefully in the boy's direction before he passed through the barrier to relative safety.

On the other side of the barrier was a chatting crowd of witches and wizards of all ages. For a moment it looked like an unorganized mob, but after a second glance Ethan realized that they were really in a long, winding, roped-off line; the kind you would see in front of a particularly popular ride at a theme park. The line zig-zagged its way to the Hogwarts Express, where an elderly wizard was standing, flanked by two large thugs in robes.

"See what I mean?" Fawkes said, taking a leisurely drag as the elderly wizard waved his wand and turned a young girl's suitcase transparent, revealing an issue of _Cosmo_. The young witch's mother lightly whacked her sulking daughter's arm, and the magazine was removed and incinerated. No one got past without having their bags checked. Checking the people themselves was much simpler; all the old wizard had to do was point his wand at the passenger, say, "Accio, bomb!" and wait to see if anything happened. Several boys wound up groaning in dismay as their dungbombs were confiscated.

"You wouldn't think the magical world would be worried about terrorists," Ethan remarked quietly as one of the thugs cracked his knuckles. Ethan silently prayed that his broom would behave itself in line.

_"Terrorists?!"_ Fawkes laughed raspily. "We call them Death Eaters, kid. Security's been upped since Voldemort came back."

"But would Death Eaters use bombs? I mean, they have magic," Ethan said.

"Exactly. So bombs would be the last thing you'd expect. Plus, it's something they can actually search for, so they feel like they're accomplishing something." Fawkes tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette idly.

The line moved sluggishly along, and Ethan found himself standing across the rope from a boy who looked to be about his age, with light chestnut hair and hazel eyes that stared through the crowds in a bored but not unfriendly way. Figuring that it was about time he talked to someone who wasn't covered in feathers, Ethan cleared his throat. "Um, hey."

The boy blinked his eyes back into focus and smiled at Ethan. "Well, hello. Are you a first-year, too?"

"Yeah," Ethan smiled back. "My name's Ethan Williams."

"I'm Nicholas Timbrell, and" the boy trailed off as he looked at Fawkes, his eyes widening in awe, "is that a phoenix?" Fawkes halted his cigarette halfway through it's journey to his beak and looked over at the word "phoenix," but decided rather quickly that nothing of importance had been said and went back to smoking pensively.

"Uh, yeah. This is Fawkes, actually." Ethan jiggled his shoulder for emphasis, causing Fawkes to drop his cigarette.

"Damn it, kid!" Fawkes glared at Ethan. "What the bloody hell was that for?! That cigarette had two good puffs left, and now it's on the bleedin' ground! Thanks a whole [fork]ing lot for that!"

"You weren't setting a good example," Ethan hissed back. Nicholas's eyes just about bulged out of his head.

"You're a _parrotmouth_?"

"Oh!" Ethan turned back to the boy, looking a bit ashamed. "Yeah. You wouldn't believe the mouth this one's got." Ethan nodded at Fawkes, and Nicholas let out a short "huh!" that seemed a combination of amusement and wonder.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Fawkes said bitterly. "Lord knows I was put here to _amuse_ you _God_, I hate my life, and I don't even get to look forward to it _ending_"

Before the boys could continue their conversation, the line moved again, sending them off in opposite directions. Five minutes later, they were across from one another again.

"So what's that like for you, being able to understand birds and all?" Nicholas asked curiously, frowning slightly as Fawkes let out a string of nasty coughs.

"It's not too bad, usually," Ethan said, stopping himself from shrugging and unseating his two passengers at the last minute. "But I've found out some things I'd rather not know."

"Like what?"

"Well, like that phoenix song has the nastiest lyrics in the world, for one," Ethan said. Fawkes cackled unpleasantly.

"Get out!" Nicholas's eyes widened. "But phoenix song is famous!"

"I know that's what makes it so wrong."

Ethan meandered his way down the line for about half an hour, talking with Nicholas on and off, before he finally reached the old wizard and his bodyguards. The wizard's very bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise when he looked at Ethan, and his wrinkles rearranged themselves into an apologetic smile.

"Sorry to trouble you, young man, but I have my orders to search absolutely everyone."

"It's no trouble," Ethan assured him, gratefully setting down the trunk. He could feel his broom trembling slightly, and clamped it tightly to his side to stop it from whacking anyone. A quick search and no bombs later, he was allowed to enter the train. He was staring down the corridor in something like despair when Nicholas poked his head out of a compartment and waved at him.

"No bombs then, Ethan?" the boy grinned.

"They're in my shoes; don't tell anyone," Ethan said, rolling his eyes and lugging his trunk and broom over while Nicholas laughed. He tucked the broom up in an overhead storage compartment before it could get any good swipes in and jammed his trunk under the seat. Fawkes looked around at the absence of decent perches, informed Ethan that he would see him at the castle, and disappeared in another burst of flame. Ethan had to spend a solid minute assuring Nicholas that it was perfectly normal.

It took another fifteen minutes for everyone to board. Ethan sat across from Nicholas, next to the window, and looked out at the crowded platform. Soon he would be on his way to Hogwarts well, on his way _back_ to Hogwarts, he thought with an excited little thrill. And he had a friend who wasn't a bird! Things were definitely looking up.

[====]==============

There! Whew! Sorry again about the huge delay, everyone I'll try to get back on track.

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Satara: Hahaha every story needs an Ed. ;-)

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Lady LifeCharm: Yay, glad I brightened your day! Hope you liked this chapter!

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Meee: Well, it's going to be more of him being special solely _because_ he's the main character, if you follow me.

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Anamaria Elentari: Hehe, don't beat yourself up I hardly ever sign in unless I'm updating something and I have to. Glad you didn't mind the slight mushiness.

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HPLadyBelle: Welcome to the fic! There's a sequel to Barry Trotter?!?! (fangirl squeal) And if there is a similarity between the chapter titles and the song titles, it isn't on purpose. I only own the POA soundtrack, actually well, I also have the SS one, but it's a burned copy so I dunno any of the titles. :-P

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QuiryWriter: Why, thank you! (blushes) If he starts going one way or the other, let me know.

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Tazzmania Tygar: I think the Mockfest is going to go down in history as the high point of my fanfiction career, hehehe. Give Ethan a chance, he's cool, too.

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Scap: It's okay, I totally understand.

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Witch of Darkness: (salutes back) Thankee kindly! :-P So many compliments packed into a little review I'm both honored and impressed!

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Skimbleshanks, the Railway CAT: Glad you liked the little details. And since I have a Mac, to make that accent mark I first hold down the option key and press e, and then release both and hit u. Hehehe not hit _you_, though. (begins giggling uncontrollably) Wheeee it's way too late for me to be up.

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Alassea2: Plastic, 15 inches, battery! (cracks up) Excellent! And HP and the gang are in their sixth year.

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The Weaseling Dragon: And now I've gone and updated again! I'm a wild thing! Maybe after this one I'll write a ficlet for Fawkes.

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morph: Wow, thanks!! By recommending, do you mean clicking that little "recommend this story to others" button below your review? What does that button _do_, exactly? Anyway, thanks; I'm really flattered. :D Yes, he will meet Harry and you will see who the DADA teacher is, hehehe.

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Phaidra: Glad you'll enjoy the Harry bashing. He's going to be quite the snot in this fic should be interesting. ;-) And I'm doing reviewer responses because the number of reviews for this one hasn't been as overwhelming as it has for the Sequel. If this becomes outrageously popular and I start getting more responses than I can handle, I may stop but I'll try to keep responding!

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Aindel S. Druida: Yeah, you haven't to be careful with mersheep they'll eat anything.

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Spoofmaster: Why, thanks! It means a lot coming from a comedic genius. ;-)

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TheSiriusSparrow: Thanks! Hehehe, Fawkes is going to have his own little fanclub by the time this is over! :-P

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szhismine: Oh, he'll meet Harry, all right. ;-)

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Pointy Ears Are My Thing: I know how that is.

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Kathryn Bushore: Yay! Hehe, thanks!

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Batgirl Beyond: It's okay, nothing wrong with being excited. Glad you're enjoying it!

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Syth Colbalt: Thanks! What happened to your spin-offs? :-(

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Fuji the Hobbit: I think I'm going to try and keep Ruhún pure. If there were more than one bird acting like Fawkes, you wouldn't appreciate Fawkes's nastiness as much. ;-) Yay, cookie!!! Thanks!

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Rachel the Insane Unicorn: You come up with the best names, man Edmund (giggles). I don't know why, but you saying FRIEND in a creepy monster voice made me laugh REALLY hard. Hope you enjoyed the site!

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awkward: I had altogether too much fun writing the wand sceneI think it's bad when I cackle aloud as I type.

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Ember the angry Firedrake: Yeah, that wouldn't be a good wand for classes, especially Charms.

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FrighteninglyObsessed: MERSHEEP! Hehehehehe!

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Katie115: Well I don't want to say anything about the DADA teacher, or I'll give it away. ;-)

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Hirilnara: (patiently awaits a new Academy chapter) Anyway, thanks! Yeah, Fawkes is starting to calm down a bit he had a lot of pent-up anger. Good luck job hunting!

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Vanyaria Darkshadow: Firstly, sorry about the monster delay. It shouldn't be this bad again! Secondly, thanks so much for the huge and luverly review! Yours always make me smile and improve my day! I don't think this is one of my best chapters, but I hope it'll suffice and do try to read Barry Trotter get it from the library if you must. It's a SCREAM. You think _I_ corrupt the wizarding world anyway, thanks again!

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Laire: Hahaha it does, doesn't it? Oh well. :-P Gandalf's line cracked me up; thanks for that! ;-) Hehehehe and I have no clue when Nigel will be updated. Wish I did, man, I wish I did

Thanks for all of the reviews!! You all get the dungbombs that the old wizard confiscated! Use them well!

-Platy


	7. Trains and Sorting Songs

Thanks muchly again for all of the luverly reviews! They make me happy and inspire me to write more quickly especially the ones that tell me to get off my lazy bum and update. ;-)

Just to clear it up: Harry Potter and co. are in their sixth year at Hogwarts, the DADA teacher will not be Harry himself, and the DADA teacher will not be a previous DADA teacher returning to Hogwarts. There. Now that _that's_ out of the way I don't own Harry Potter, and I am sadly not making any money by writing this. Enjoy! Oh and I forget who asked, but Ethan is going "back to Hogwarts" in the sense that he was just there that morning to drop off his things, not because he'd been there for a previous school year. ;-) There! Now, without further ado, the chapter!

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The train had been in motion for five minutes when there was a knock on the compartment door. Nicholas slid it open to reveal a small, skinny boy who looked about two years younger than he must have been.

"Hello," Nicholas said, an amiable smile spreading immediately across his features. Ethan offered a little wave from next to the window as Ruhún edged timidly behind Ethan's neck and onto his further shoulder.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" the boy asked. "All of the others are full of idiots."

Ethan blinked at the variation of the almost-familiar line, but then lifted his free shoulder. Nicholas slid back towards the window to make room and nodded.

"Thanks!" The boy plunked himself unceremoniously onto the bench and regarded the other three inhabitants with large, dark eyes that were always partially obscured by a floppy fringe of brown hair that the boy habitually flicked aside to no avail. "I'm Edward Fairfax." He turned to Ethan. "And you're the main character." Nicholas shifted slightly at that announcement, and Edward fixed his eyes on him. "And you're, what, one of the main character's cohorts?"

"It isn't his fault he's the main character," Nicholas said quietly. "You don't have to go rubbing it in like that."

"Oh, and I'm sure he hasn't had it rubbed in a million times already," Edward laughed, "and won't have it rubbed in five million times more over the course of the school year."

"That doesn't mean you have to contribute," Nicholas said sharply, looking about as unfriendly as Ethan had ever seen him.

"It's all right," the main character interrupted, not wanting the spat to continue. "I'm used to it and if I wasn't, I'd need to _get_ used to it." He searched for a change of subject. "Are either of you from wizarding families?"

"I was raised by badgers," Edward said seriously.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. _"I'm_ from a wizarding family."

"Who said I wasn't?" Edward challenged.

"You just said you were raised by _badgers_!"

"They were wizarding badgers."

"They were _not_. Don't be stupid."

"They were." Edward sat up. "My parents started out as normal people, then they had me, and then they decided they didn't want to deal with the human world any longer, so they turned themselves into badgers."

"And what, they just dragged you along in your nappy or something?" Nicholas shook his head.

"No, they turned me into a badger as well," Edward said casually. "Then I got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts, so they dug up their old wands and turned me back."

"Bollocks," Nicholas said decisively.

"Believe what you like; it's all true," Edward said with a smug smile, as if being raised by badgers was something to be proud of.

"Well, the reason I asked," Ethan interrupted the growing argument again, "is because I was wondering what wizard children did for primary school. I mean, did your parents teach you how to read and write, or are there elementary schools for wizard children, or did you just get sent off to normal schools and hope that you didn't accidentally turn someone into a lemming?"

"I wasn't taught reading and writing," Edward said before Nicholas could get a word in. "I was taught how to do badger things, you know, like dig up worms and rob nests and kill small rodents. Then my parents magically infused me with all the knowledge I would need to start out with."

"I suppose that's why you're not snuffling around on all fours right now," Nicholas folded his arms.

"Look who's catching on!" Edward grinned.

"Well, at least your dormitory will be rat-free."

"Right, well, what was _your_ schooling like?" Ethan asked Nicholas quickly.

"I went to a regular primary school," Nicholas explained, looking a bit more cheerful when Edward didn't interrupt. "My parents were worried about me doing bits of magic, but I never did anything extreme. Just, you know, cheating at tag accidentally by slowing down whoever I was chasing."

"'Accidentally,'" Edward snorted quietly.

"Shut it, you."

Ethan sighed. It was going to be a long train ride.

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By the time they reached the station, Ethan had decided that Edward had either led an astonishing life, or (and he thought this more likely) the boy was a compulsive liar. There were several heated moments when Ethan thought he was going to have to grab his broomstick to keep Nicholas and Edward from tearing each other apart. Not that Edward behaved threateningly it was just clear that the boy was happiest when he was irritating someone else, and in this case the someone else was Nicholas.

The three boys stepped off of the train and into a warm, muggy evening. Over the excited chattering of students, a loud voice rumbled, "Firs' years follow me! This way, firs' years! All righ', Harry?"

Several first year students craned their necks in an attempt to get a glimpse of the famous Harry Potter as they shuffled towards Hagrid, but had no luck as they were a good deal shorter than most everyone else. Ethan didn't even attempt to try and pick Potter out of the crowd; he had just realized that he had left his broom on the train, and was wondering if the folks who unloaded the luggage would be able to handle it without being injured. Plus, he wasn't entirely sure he _wanted_ to meet Harry. All of the books had made it seem as if Harry resented being famous, but still what if having his limelight taken away upset him? And what would the famous Harry Potter want to do with a first year, anyway? No, Ethan would just as soon avoid the Boy Who Lived if he could manage it.

The first years were all herded towards the lake, where a fleet of small boats was waiting. Ethan sent Ruhún ahead with strict orders to fly as high over the lake as possible he didn't want the giant squid making a midnight snack out of his friend.

Nicholas and Ethan climbed into a boat, followed almost immediately by a stubborn, talkative Edward. The boat ride across the lake consisted of Nicholas gritting his teeth and starting straight ahead, Edward blathering on about eating baby rabbits raw, and Ethan darting nervous glances at the water and starting to wish that he had gone back to Hogwarts with Fawkes instead of taking the train. The castle looked magnificent, at least.

Once they reached the castle, they trooped inside and up a flight of stairs. Waiting for them at the top was a tall, thin, grasshopper-y woman in deep green robes, staring sternly down at them all through a pair of rectangular spectacles. Ethan was reminded slightly of Yzma. She didn't look quite as old, but definitely qualified as scary beyond all reason.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the witch said loud enough to carry over and effectively drown out the nervous whispers and titters of the small crowd. "I am Professor McGonagall. There are four houses here: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw" she trailed off, looking disgruntled. "Has anyone here _not_ read the books?"

Edward raised his hand cheerfully. "I couldn't read them because I was too busy being a badger." He smiled as McGonagall shot him a withering look.

"Anyone _else_?" she inquired sharply. No hands were raised. "Right. Then you all know the drill. Follow me." She wheeled around in a rumple of robes and strode through a large pair of double-doors, shoving them wide with such force that they slammed into the inside walls, bounced back violently, and gave one girl who hadn't leaped aside fast enough a bloody nose. McGonagall repaired the damage with an impatient flick of her wand, and then walked quickly up the center of the Great Hall.

Ethan half-jogged to keep up along with the rest of the students, trying not to flush as he heard "main character" echoing on every side. If he had turned to look, he was sure he would have seen every eye in the hall on him; so he didn't look. He focused on the back of McGonagall's robes instead. They were quite green, indeed.

The first-years were led up towards the main table, where Dumbledore was regarding them with a small smile. McGonagall walked off to the side for a moment, and came back carrying a stool in one hand and a hat that had definitely seen better days in the other. She set the stool down, plunked the hat unceremoniously on top, and then stood off to the side.

The lights dimmed dramatically, and a hush spread through the Great Hall. A single spotlight illuminated the hat, which just sat there for a moment. Then it began to twitch rhythmically. A rip near the brim opened like a mouth and emitted a quiet, "A-one, a-two, a-one two three four!"

BA-DOWWWWWW! The first years jumped collectively as a deafening bass note reverberated throughout the hall, accompanied by a crash of symbols. More spotlights turned on, revealing a drum set in one corner that no one had noticed, played by a house elf wearing shades much too big for it and an artfully ripped and torn pillowcase. Twirling the drumsticks expertly, the house elf proceeded to slam out a short but vigorous solo.

There was another loud BA-DAAAWWWRRR! The first years jumped again. More spotlights popped on, revealing more house elves. One had a bass, two had electric guitars, and three female house elves in spangled red pillowcases looked like back-up singers. The drum solo resolved into a fast-paced beat, and the guitars began pumping out steady chords. Colored lights flashed. On the stool, the sorting hat bowed its conical "head," nodding almost imperceptibly to the beat. Ethan looked up at Dumbledore, wondering if this was some sort of joke, but the headmaster was discreetly shooting billowing clouds of fog out of his wand and didn't make eye contact. Ethan's eyes were drawn back to the stool as the hat began to sing.

_"Ooooooooooooooo it's tiiiime for another yeeear"_ moaned the sorting hat as fog rolled past the stool and among the tables. _"Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm suuuure you've heeaarrrd that theerrre's a loottt to feeear"_

_"Theeeeere's aaaaa loottt tooooo feeeear!"_ Crooned the back-up elves, waving their thin arms over their heads in perfect unison.

_"Yeah YOU'RE NOT SAFE! NO, YOU'RE NOT SAFE! YOOOU COULD DIIIE DESPIIIITE THE FAAAACT YOU'RE - HEEEEEEEEEERE!!!" _Several first years visibly paled as one of the back-up elves shook a tambourine.

_"Cuz You-Know-Who is back! And he's not back to spread good will and cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!"_ The hat began cone-banging violently as one of the guitarists launched into an ear-splitting solo riff. 'Must not wince openly' Ethan thought to himself. Midway through a nearly successful attempt to play the instrument behind his head, the solo guitar elf hit a wrong note. The bass and drums plowed on regardless as the solo elf froze, looking horrified. Ethan watched in morbid fascination as the elf grabbed his guitar by the neck and began beating himself over the head with it as punishment, each blow punctuated by a yelp that was almost inaudible under the other instruments. The other guitar-playing elf quickly picked up where the first had left off, and if the sorting hat had noticed anything amiss, it didn't show it.

_"There's four hoouses heeere allllll of themmm aliiiiike in diiiiiignityyyyyyy"_ the hat continued as McGonagall slunk into the band, bent double in a fruitless attempt to be discreet, and tried to wrestle the self-abusing elf's guitar away.

_"And you allllll shall heeeear what they aaare aboooout from liiiittle meeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE**EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" **_ The hat began hopping up and down on its stool as it essentially shouted the words, the band climbing into a crescendo so loud that some students quit pretending to enjoy themselves and clapped their hands over their ears. McGonagall grabbed the body of the guitar and tugged, digging in her heels. The elf clutched the neck in its spindly fingers and slammed its forehead against it so hard that the strings left little horizontal stripes in its skin. The blow left the house elf so addled that McGonagall was able to pry the guitar from his grasp and drag him offstage by the scruff if his neck.

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_"SLYTHERIN'S FOR YOU IF YOU ARE A BIG JERK! HUFFLEPUFF IS GOOD FOR THOSE WHO LIKE HARD WORK! RAVENCLAW IS ONLY FOR THE REALLY SMART! GRYFFINDOR'S THE HOUSE FOR THE BRAVE AT HEART! GRYFFINDOR! RAVENCLAW! HUFFLEPUFF! SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN! HUFFLEPUFF! RAVENCLAW! GRYFFINDOOOORRRRRRR! GRYFFINDOOOORRRRRRRRRR! GRYFFINDOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!" _The sorting hat stopped jumping and sat back, swaying limply as the drummer wailed away with his drumsticks, the other elves slammed away on their guitar and bass, respectively, and the back-up elves "oood" several octaves higher than "pleasant listening." After a few moments of painfully loud music, the band quieted dramatically and the hat slumped forward.

_"So put me on your head and I'll tell you where you need to beeeeeeeeeeeeeee"_ the hat sang quietly. The guitarist strummed one final chord, and the drummer ran his stick down some wind chimes. And that, the students took several minutes to realize, was the end of the song.

There was a tentative clap or two as the lights rose, and then some scattered, disbelieving applause. Ethan's ears were ringing. McGonagall, having disposed of the elf, offered the sorting hat a small cup of water, which the macho hat refused.

"Well," the witch said after a moment, fishing a scroll out her pocket, "I shall call you forward by name for your sorting!"

[====]==============

I know this may not be a good place to leave off, but I didn't want this to be a monster chapter, because then all of the other chapters would look short and you'd bother me about it. ;-)

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Ann: Well, thanks! Yes, Cosmo is not appropriate reading material for young girls. Not hit YOU, though. ;-)

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TheSiriusSparrow: Hehe, okay! Yeah, I saw a horse like that, once only instead of biting my horse as it passed, it missed and bit _me_. I had a huge bruise on my knee for months afterwards. Yay for Spanish, indeed!

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FreakyKat: Hehehe, you aren't far off. ;-) Harry isn't going to be a happy camper.

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Maura Labingi: Glad you like the whomping broom idea! I imagine you wouldn't like it as much in person. ;-)

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Lynn: I find your e-mail highly amusing, hehe. Thanks muchly! Hope you liked this chapter as well!

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morph: Hehehe I get a lot of people who read in public places, and they always scold me if I was funny enough to make them laugh out loud. :-P I'm not sure what that button does, either. I never got an e-mail or anything. From what I've been able to tell at 's main page, it's more like a statistical thing. If a story is highly recommended, they log that away somewhere for future reference, I guess. Maybe (and this is wishful thinking) a story that gets highly recommended a lot doesn't necessarily get booted when one person complains!

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christy the badger: Badger props!!!!!!

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Satara: More or less, I suppose he is. Hey, the main character has to have two cohorts, doesn't he? Yes he does! But I wouldn't say that Edward is the new Hermione that just sounds wrong.

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Kay131: There's a "We Love Platy" association?? Awww! Hehe, that's awesome! Yeah, I figured it was about time I branched out. Glad you're enjoying this! And in the frenzy of autograph signing that the hat did after his little performance there, I managed to get a lighter signed! So here! (hands you a lighter that looks like a tiny magic wand) It's fun to say "lumos!" and flick it on over and over again. ;-) Enjoy!

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Syth Colbalt: YAY! MORE SPIN-OFF GOODNESS!

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Hirilnara: Happy much-belated birthday! (throws confetti) Yes, jobs bad updating, however, good. ;-)

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Batgirl Beyond: Hehehe, everyone loves that violent broomstick thanks bunches!

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Skimbleshanks, the Railway CAT: Not as funny as Legolass-hole, but it'll do. ;-) Yes, Cosmo (depending on my mood on the rare occasions when I read it) either makes me giggle really hard or makes me very sad. But it definitely is not for 11-year-old girls. Haha, I wouldn't want to place a bet I'm already deviating from it because the sorting song took longer than I anticipated. And, according to one of my PC-owning friends, to make that accent over the u, you have to hold down the control button and hit the apostrophe key, and then hit u. Does that makes sense? I wouldn't know. :-P Thanks muchly for the long review!! It made me happy! :-D

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The Weaseling Dragon: Yes, sorry about that delay I was a bit quicker this time, right? It might be a while before the next one, though, as it has come to my attention that my things at platyfics haven't been touched since May.

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Lady LifeCharm: Awww it's nice to know my efforts are appreciated! It was my policy back in my early days when I only got like three reviews per chapter and so now I have guilt if I stop. :-P But I'm really glad you're enjoying this fic! Hope you liked this chapter as well. I know I enjoyed writing it, hehehe.

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Pointy Ears Are My Thing: Yeah, Fawkes isn't very nice but no stew! Too many other people like him. ;-)

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Phaidra: Well, it's not _all_ planned out, but most of it is. And I have more of a general idea than I ever had before. :) Thanks!

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The Fantastic Fangirls: Yay, glad you like it! And I did check your fic out briefly, but I was at work and didn't have time to get very far. Stupid work. Anyway, I'll go read it properly!

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Witch of Darkness: No, it won't be hard at all, poor kid. Hehehehe. Thanks for the review!

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Scap: Yay, a long review! Wow, you know someone who was in the first two movies??!! Awesome! I have no connections at all, hehehe. I know someone who knows Sean William Scott, but that's about it, hehehe. And I find it amusing that in book five, Harry just comes across as a little jerk! I mean, he's a teenager and he has hormonal issues, obviously, but still. Congrats on getting that diploma thingy! Woo! I hope you can get into the course itself! And no, I absolutely will NOT give you any hints as to his gender. The nerve!

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Fuji the Hobbit: Oh no! Is it going to turn me into a mutant?? OO And Ruhún doesn't mean anything in particular; it isn't elvish or anything. I just thought it sounded a bit like a hoot, so I liked it. Much luv back!

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Rachel the Insane Unicorn: I knew I shouldn't have given out dungbombs

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QuirkyWriter: I suppose if Nicholas is named after anyone, it's the little boy in "The Others." But it may end up being shortened, as I am lazy. ;-) Ethan's just in denial, I think, hehehe. Poor kid. Thanks for the review; glad you like it!

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Anamaria Elentari: Everyone who's _anyone_ carries dungbombs around in their shoes! Yeah, Fawkes went a bit soft, I think. ;-) But hey, I wouldn't want the main character's death hanging over my head, either!

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ShadowHeart6: I've changed a LOT of people's views on Fawkes, hehehe! Glad I made you see him in a different light.

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Kathryn Bushore: Oh man, they never would have made it on board! :-P I shall, no worries there!

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Meee: Maybe Dumbledore _can't_ understand Fawkes. I mean, I've seen signs that Fawkes can understand Dumbledore, but that might just be because he is an exceptionally intelligent phoenix. ;-)

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Vanyaria Darkshadow: Aww (hands you a tissue) I'm really glad you like it so much! And there you go again, flattering me terribly! I'm a bit behind, so you aren't going to hear about Ethan's classes until chapter nine but oh, what a chapter it will (hopefully) be! I also hope you liked the sorting hat song I thought it was terrible, but fun to write. ;-) (hugs) Thanks loads for the review heck, for ALL of your reviews! I look forward to getting them, as they tend to make my week, hehehe.

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Ainu Laire: Well, I dunno if the DADA teacher will be _funny_ but hopefully unexpected! And interesting it should be interesting. And Harry is in his sixth year, in case you missed the note up top. ;-)

Woo! **29** reviews! So you all get random HP merchandise signed by the sorting hat! Weehee!

-Platy


	8. Sorting and Eating

First of all, much thanks to all of my WONDERFUL reviewers! You're all so nice and encouraging! Well, most of you are. Which is why I'm going ahead and writing this now I feel inspired, and I also feel like I kind of left you at a bad spot last time, hehe. It's like two halves of the same chapter!

And I don't own Harry Potter. And since I am lazy and forgetful, this will be the last time I mention it. I AM NOT THE RICHEST WOMAN IN ALL OF BRITAIN! Or close to richest, whichever she is

By the by, there is an obscure Poe reference in this chapter kudos to anyone who gets it. ;-)

[====]==============

Professor McGonagall unrolled her scroll with a flourish, making Ethan wince and think of paper-cuts. But if she had received any, she showed no sign of it. She looked critically over the roll for a moment, then announced in a loud, clear voice, "Andrews, Andrew!"

There were a few quiet snickers over the name as the tow-headed boy stepped forward, looking more than a little bit nervous. Ethan realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he would be one of the last names called. 'Damn it, why does my surname have to start with a w?' he grumbled mentally.

The sorting hat was lifted just high enough off of the stool for Andrew Andrews to take a seat. Then the hat was set down on the trembling boy's head, which it promptly obscured down to the neck, creating the bizarre illusion that the boy had had his head transfigured. The hat sat silently for a moment, considering, and then shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted as a very pink Andrew Andrews staggered gratefully over and sat down. Nicholas leaned over to Ethan and murmured, "Hopefully that's where badger boy ends up as well." Ethan couldn't help snickering, though he did feel slightly bad for it immediately afterwards.

"Fairfax, Edward," however, was deemed Gryffindor material almost immediately. He bounced to the Gryffindor table amidst plenty of cheers, plopped down, and promptly started inspecting the plate in front of him as if trying to determine its value. He was gnawing lightly on the edge when Ethan turned away, shaking his head.He watched politely as "Garside, Ellie," was made a Ravenclaw, feeling his stomach churn with nervousness. What had Fawkes said to do? Threaten to burn the hat? That was it, wasn't it? He nibbled his lower lip as "Li, Annabelle," sat down on the stool and had the hat placed over her head.

Ethan blinked his eyes back into focus when he realized that the hat had been sitting on the girl's head for a solid minute without anything happening. Annabelle was shaking visibly as the hat just sat there, cone bowed as if deep in thought. The hall was dead silent except for a dry cough or two, and Annabelle's occasional whimpers. After another solid minute had passed, another sound permeated the silent hall: very quiet snoring. The hat, it seemed, had dozed off. McGonagall reached forward and poked it sharply.

"Whatgah?!" The hat started awake and straightened sharply, making everyone gasp. The front row of waiting first-years all took involuntary steps backwards, irritating those behind them. "Put her in the shrieking shack for all I oh. Uh" the hat coughed. "Um, Gryffindor!"

Annabelle Li practically ran to the Gryffindor table and sat down across from Edward, who offered her a fork as if it was a lollipop. He had at least three spoons protruding from his own mouth, which meant that he must have stolen at least one from another place setting. Ethan turned away once again; he didn't want to think about it.

After eight children in a row were placed in Slytherin (Ethan wasn't sure if they all honestly belonged there, or if the hat was just having a good time), "Timbrell, Nicholas!" was called forward. He was also sent to the Gryffindor table in short order. After clapping generously for his friend, Ethan looked around and realized that he was the only first-year left. 'Figures,' his brain muttered sullenly as the hall filled with whispers yet again.

"Williams, Eth-"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed before McGonagall could finish reading. The witch looked shocked for a moment, then walked up to the hat and whispered something to it that sounded unfriendly. Ethan distinctly heard the hat say, "I don't bloody care; I'm tired and I want a nap!" But eventually McGonagall won the hat over, and she beckoned Ethan to the stool.

Ethan sat down, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. McGonagall lifted the hat over his head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed again, still hovering a good foot above Ethan's dark bronze, wavy hair.

"Wait until you're on his _head_," McGonagall hissed in a threatening tone of voice. She began to lower the hat as smoothly as she could, which wasn't all that smoothly as her hand was trembling with suppressed rage.

"GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted over and over all the way down, as if he was being tortured for information and "Gryffindor" was all he knew. McGonagall continued to lower the hat stubbornly until it was resting on Ethan's head, obstructing the boy's vision. The hat paused for a moment. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

_"What?!"_ the hall collectively gasped. There was an immediate uproar, sounding a bit muffled through the hat. Some girl from the Gryffindor table, perhaps Hermione, shouted, "But he's the _main character_!" If Ethan had been able to see at all, he would have seen Dumbledore start in his chair and McGonagall massage one temple wearily. He also would have seen the entire Hufflepuff table looking disgruntled.

"Well, Gryffindor wasn't bloody _good_ enough for you, was it?!" the sorting hat snapped defensively over the incredulous babbling. "You know, it's only my ruddy _job_ to sort all these snot-nosed brats! But nooo, I have to do it _just right_ or I'm not taken seriously!"

"So, Gryffindor, then?" McGonagall snapped impatiently.

"Well, whatever suits _you_ best!" the hat roared back, clearly in a very bad mood.

"Gryffindor it is!" McGonagall announced, snatching the hat irately off of Ethan's head. "Sit down, Williams, you're in Gryffindor," she explained, as if the boy hadn't heard the entire exchange.

"Okay," Ethan said, sliding off the stool and walking over to the table with legs that felt like Jell-O, hardly registering the thunderous applause and numerous, hearty thumps on the back. Or the way the entire Hufflepuff table slumped in disappointment, having lost the closest thing to Cedric Diggory they'd ever get for years to come.

"NO RESPECT!" The hat was bellowing as McGonagall attempted to stuff it in a laundry bag. "This is the sort of nonsense that gives me a wrinkle in my brim! USURPATION; that's what this is! Just take the only bloody job I have and undermine the hell out of it; _I_ don't mind, I'm just a _hat_!" Before it could continue, McGonagall succeeded in shoving into the recesses of the bag, which she quickly tied shut and handed to a house-elf, who bundled it away.

"Well," Dumbledore stood up, his eyes doing their obligatory twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, "I would be hard put on to follow a performance like that." Cue laughter. Dumbledore smiled. "So, without further ado"

The students all gasped in surprised and admiration as the plates and platters magically filled with food. Edward coughed and nearly choked as the spoon he had been idly slurping on unexpectedly filled itself with custard, and Ethan had to thump him on the back a few times.

The spread was magnificent. Ethan was astonished at the number of things that somehow had baked beans incorporated into them was that baked bean _pizza_?! He decided he didn't want to know (which was fast become a pattern), and stuck to things he more or less recognized, or things that Nicholas recommended.

"It just isn't the same when it's cooked," Edward lamented as he poked at his wild rabbit.

"Oh, come off it," Nicholas mumbled, helping himself to some pumpkin juice. "No one here believes you were raised by badgers."

"Speciesist!" Edward accused. Nicholas rolled his eyes. Annabelle looked like she wished that she were sitting across from someone else.

"Thinking that you're full of it doesn't make me a speciesist, if that's even a word," Nicholas retorted.

"You have something against badgers!" Edward started his lower lip trembling, as if he were about to cry. "You _hate_ me, just admit it!"

"Well, no problems _there_."

Ethan frowned down at his Shepherds Pie. It felt as if someone was watching him which he supposed was likely enough, him being the main character and all. But this was different. He looked around discreetly, wondering whom it was. As his eyes traveled up the Gryffindor table under the pretense of checking out the food, they ran unexpectedly into a pair of green ones framed by round, black glasses.

_Harry Potter was_ staring _at him!_ And - Ethan realized after the shock had worn off - the look he was receiving wasn't exactly friendly. It could have been described as calculating as best. But surely Harry didn't find Ethan _threatening_. I mean, it was like Ethan had always insisted - he had never asked for this, this main character thing. Harry would have to understand that. Heck, Ethan had almost allowed himself to hope that Harry would take him under his wing or something. But the chances of that now looked woefully slim.

Ethan's forkful of food dropped onto his plate with a clatter, startling him. He gratefully broke eye contact with Harry and apologized to Nicholas for splattering gravy on him.

"No trouble," Nicholas said, wiping it off with a napkin.

"It's okay," Edward said with understanding, "these opposable thumbs can be tricky."

[====]==============

Once the plates had been cleared and left as sparkling clean as they ever had been, Dumbledore stood up and said a few words. Ethan didn't catch them; he was frankly exhausted after a long day and wanted nothing more than to stagger into his bed and lose consciousness till morning. He stared blearily at his reflection in his plate until the two Hogwarts prefects - Ron and Hermione, he realized with a small start, stood up and called the first years forward.

"Come on, you lot," Ron said, trying to sound official. Hermione whacked his arm lightly, and he flinched. _"What?"_

"First years this way," Hermione took over, ignoring Ron as he rolled his eyes and rubbed his shoulder where she'd hit him. The crowd of Gryffindors followed them through the many winding passages of Hogwarts castle, Ethan generally avoiding eye contact. He didn't want to look up and find Harry glaring at him or something. The main character felt his stomach sink whenever he thought about that look he'd received earlier. He had accepted that he'd probably have some sort of arch nemesis, but he had hoped it wouldn't be The Boy Who Lived or should he say The Boy Who Loved the Limelight and Probably Resented Having It Taken Away. Ethan supposed that he was jumping to conclusions. In fact, he almost definitely was. He'd made eye contact for all of five seconds; any impressions he had received during that short time period didn't signify anything. Did it?

When Ethan trudged into the dormitory, he was pleased and surprised to see both Ruhún and Fawkes waiting there for him.

"Well, kid," Fawkes asked, stretching a wing idly, "how'd it go? Did Potter give you any trouble? Just say the word and I'll crap in that punk's mouth while he's sleeping." Ruhún looked as if he didn't think pooping in anyone's mouth a polite thing to do. Ethan was glad the owl hadn't been completely corrupted not to mention glad that he had made it safely to Hogwarts without becoming squid munchies. The boy climbed gratefully onto his bed, allowing Ruhún to perch on his knee while Fawkes stuck to the windowsill.

Edward immediately launched into a long tangent about owl eggs versus pheasant eggs as a meal. Ruhún watched the boy with wide eyes, ruffling his feathers in distaste. Ethan sighed and turned to Fawkes. "It went fine there was a bit of an uproar when the hat sarcastically tried to put me in Hufflepuff, but other than that, it went fine."

"Are you _talking_ to that _bird_?" Edward asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I'm a parrotmouth," Ethan replied, managing to keep his voice even when he really wanted to snap impatiently. He turned back to Fawkes. "The food was great."

"Well, of course it was; it was the opening feast!" Fawkes coughed a few times, almost delicately compared to his earlier hacking fits. "Just wait till the school year starts up properly they'll put back every single one of the stops they pulled, believe me."

Ruhún looked at Edward nervously. "Does that boy really eat owls?"

"No," Ethan assured the barred owl. "That's Edward, and he's full of it, and he follows me around for some unknown reason." Ethan smothered a yawn.

"It's your main-character magnetism," Fawkes said with a rather nasty chuckle.

"Or my _animal_ magnetism, if anything Edward has said is remotely true which I doubt." Ethan's next yawn went unsmothered. Ruhún took the hint and flapped over to the top of a tall dresser. Ethan sleepily changed into his pajamas, only half-listening to Fawkes' next question.

"I _said_," Fawkes repeated grumpily, "Anything happen with Harry?"

Ethan paused, considering whether or not it would be best to tell Fawkes he'd gotten an unfriendly look. But the phoenix was surprisingly perceptive; or maybe Ethan was a miserable liar when he was tired.

"Say no more, kid. I'll burn that little bogey in his bedsheets!"

"You really don't have to do that," Ethan protested tiredly. "He only looked at me a bit funny is all. I was probably only imagining it."

"Whenever the main character says they probably only imagined something, it means that it absolutely happened," Fawkes shot back. "But I'll refrain from killing the kid if you insist."

"I do insist," Ethan said, nodding goodnight to Nicholas and pulling the curtains around his four-post bed. "Have a good night, Fawkes. You too, Ruhún."

"I plan on having a _productive_ night," Fawkes said shiftily, but Ethan had already fallen asleep, and didn't hear him.

[====]==============

Well, there you all go! Next chapter is Ethan's first day of classes when we find out who the mysterious DADA teacher is! Dun dun DUNNNNN!!!

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Syth Colbalt: Um wow. That has to be the most negative review I've ever received. In fact, that is the _only_ negative review I have ever received, so thanks for that. I'm sorry you didn't like the last chapter, but I doubt any major changes will be made, since you're the only one who was at all displeased with it. Everyone else seems to have greatly enjoyed my "awful, forced, stupid tripe." Doesn't that beat all. Personally, I had an absolute blast writing the sorting hat's new song and am not about to change it because of a single reviewer's complaints. This is _my_ story, take it or leave it. I'm not going to claim that the last chapter was perfect, but I wouldn't have posted anything that I thought the readers would dislike, or that I wasn't at least satisfied with. Well, I hope you liked this one, anyway. And if you didn't, I hope you will at least be a bit more polite about it. I can take constructive criticism, but that was just insulting and wholly unnecessary.

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Kathryn Bushore: I think I reminded everyone of that website, haha! I liked that elf, too.

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Skimbleshanks, the Railway CAT: Yeah, can be fickle like that. If it helps at all, as the fic moves on it will probably be shortened to "Ed" or "Eddie," which I think would make things a bit easier. Maybe not. :-P I like grasshoppers. And I kinda doubt that they will though someone, I think Spoofmaster, had an interesting idea of everyone sending in really good bits from their chat fics, so the mods would realize what they're missing out on.

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morph: Hehe, I loved writing it! I actually cackled aloud as I typed, which doesn't happen too often.

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Witch of Darkness: Hehehe, glad you liked it! And the sorting hat displays more attitude this chapter, bwaha!

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christy the badger: Darn right they are!

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FreakyKat: Hehehehe that line makes me giggle as well. What a way to freak out the newbies! ;-) And it would be hard to kick Harry's butt if he was sixteen and you were only eleven. But interesting things are going to develop with Ethan and Harry you'll see what I mean.

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The Weaseling Dragon: Aww, I'm not all that. (blushes) But I can hear that sorting song in my head, and it isn't pretty. The kind of music I generally avoid, haha! Thanks bunches!

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Black Jaguar12: Yay! If I were in an empty house, I'd be singing it up, too! Glad you liked the lyrics; thanks!!

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purplestainedglass: Awww Thanks!

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Pointy Ears Are My Thing: I love how your reviews have nothing to do with the chapter, hehehehe. What happens at band camp, stays at band camp. ;-)

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Vanyaria Darkshadow: Your reviews always make me so happy! They make me want to fly out to New Zealand and hug you! (Yeah, I checked out your web page I was curious about the insanely nice reviewer!) And his story will probably change Edward enjoys pulling things out of his ass for the shock value. ;-) Yay, I'm JKR on drugs! (cackles) 'Secret burning passion'??!! (cracks up) Yes, that's exactly it. You saw right through the arguments to the sexual tension bubbling beneath the surface. :-P Good for you! Thanks for the small children I'll put them to work in the mines right away. Or maybe I'll just raise them to be EVIL. So many options; they're so impressionable ;-)

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Phaidra: I don't think I've seen Bananaphone, but that is because my comp is a Mac and I haven't been able to successfully install Flash player. And the folks at our campus helpdesk aren't much help because this is such a PC school. Oh well. Glad you liked the chapter!

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Satara: HAHA, crowd surfing! He's so tiny, he'd just get passed awkwardly from person to person. ;-) There's nothing wrong with being unghetto, really. I'M unghetto it's just makes it all the more comical when you attempt to BE ghetto. Like me naming my stuffed platypus Shizzle. It looked like a Shizzle.

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Ember the angry Firedrake: You've met her? Wow I'm jealous. I love that character, haha. "I've never liked your spinach puffs!"

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Hirilnara: Oooh, you've found me out now you must be killed. Not really, hee like I would want that! I dunno if I'm organized enough to have a ploy, to be perfectly honest. I more just take an idea and run with it. And HUZZAH for you updating!

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Meee: Hehe, I updated! Glad you liked the last chapter!

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anya: Yep, the sorting hat has attitude now. Hehehe I think Edward is going to get on EVERYONE'S nerves it's going to be interesting when they have Potions class with Snape

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Ainu Laire: Erm no to all of those guesses, sorry. Hehehe, Dobby teaching a class would be interesting. He'd probably be surprised when students didn't literally kick themselves for failing quizzes.

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Fuji the Hobbit: Oooh, otters are nice as well. Otters! I'm not really familiar with any anime, hehe never got into it. Glad you liked the song; I had a blast writing it! Hope you rode out that sugar high all right, hehehe. Thanks!

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Spoofmaster: Woo, fanart! If you ever do any, let me know! I did a character sketch myself it's pinned to my bulletin board for inspiration, as are Ethan and Nicholas. It would be interesting to see if you drew something similar to what I have. ;-)

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Kato Shingetsu: Maybe! That would be an odd twist, hehe.

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Maura Labingi: People keep taking the sorting hat! Hehehe! Yeah, I think I'm going to have some fun writing about how the professors are reacting to their sudden fame.

Thanks all for the reviews! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Hogwarts silverware for everyone! (flings silverware into the crowd, but not knives! Knives are passed out carefully. One must always be careful with knives and other things that could cause injury. And brush your teeth and look both ways before crossing the street, and never lend money to a man wearing no pants in January!)

-Platy


	9. First Day of School! First Day of Schoo...

WOO! Another chapter! I'm on FIRE! ;-) Just to let you all know the Poe reference is the name "Annabelle Li," because he wrote a poem entitled "Annabelle Lee." Don't feel bad if you didn't get it though it is one of his more famous poems, it isn't one you'd probably run across unless you were studying Poe or something like that. And as to the baked beans bit, which confused many people - I have heard from friends of mine who have visited the UK that baked beans are very prevalent. They really like their baked beans over there, I guess. I have nothing against baked beans myself but I wouldn't make a sandwich out of them, and I wouldn't put them on pizza.

[====]==============

Ethan awoke gradually, like a bubble rising up through water. The first thing he registered was Fawkes's bitter mumbling. Something about Harry sleeping with his mouth shut. Ethan opened his eyes to see the phoenix perched on one of the posts of his bed, smoking grumpily.

"You shouldn't do that in here," Ethan tried to say, but it came out as more of a croak. He cleared his throat and repeated himself.

"Too late," Fawkes declared as Ethan sat up groggily, supporting himself on one hand while he rubbed his eyes with the other.

"You didn't do anything terrible to Harry, did you?" The boy asked warily.

"I didn't do what I had originally _planned_ on doing," Fawkes replied, blinking with feigned innocence.

"What did you do?!" Ethan asked, now wide-awake.

"I left him a little present on his forehead," Fawkes said, doing the phoenix equivalent of a smirk. "Heh, the little brat will probably wake up all worried because his scar 'feels funny' and" and whatever else Fawkes was going to say Ethan didn't catch, because the bird was laughing too hard for coherency.

"Fawkes!" Ethan hissed in a panic. "Did you really?!" The phoenix was still cackling helplessly, so he could only nod in confirmation of Ethan's worst fears.

The boy shook his head, staring bleakly at his blankets. "I'm dead. Fawkes, he's going to hex me into the next century!"

"Oh, he will not you're the main _character_," Fawkes said after having recovered somewhat. "The only time you'll ever be hexed is in a classroom setting where you're _practicing_ hexes. And anyway, it isn't like he has any way of knowing _you_ were behind it."

"I WASN'T behind it!" Ethan protested.

"Now get dressed," Fawkes continued without missing a beat, "it's time for breakfast! And your first day of classes!" Fawkes adopted a sarcastic, misty-eyed tone of voice. "My liddle main character is all grown up and attending Hogwarts"

"Oh, shut up," Ethan grumbled, dragging on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and pulling his robes over it all (which, he had to admit, did fit very nicely. Versace knew what she was doing, even if she was always high as a kite on magical means of transportation).

He found his way down to the Great Hall with only a little help from Fawkes, who was perched on his shoulder. A few Gryffindors were there, including Harry, who was sitting with Ron, Hermione, and a red-haired girl who must have been Ginny. Ethan looked at the floor as he passed them. He headed towards the far end of the table where Nicholas was determinedly sipping some orange juice as Edward sat next to him and attempted to balance a spoon on his (Nicholas's) nose. "Hold _still_," Edward was saying as Ethan sat down.

"Sleep all right?" Nicholas asked, grabbing the spoon out of Edward's hand and setting it out of the boy's reach.

"Fine," Ethan said, looking down at his empty plate expectantly. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the plate was suddenly, magically filled with the food that Ethan had left on it last night. It was all there, down to a half-nibbled chicken drumstick and a lump of crusty mashed potatoes. Ethan recoiled. "I don't want _that_!"

"Well, you'll eat every last bit!" his plate sniffed bossily. "I didn't slave away to make all this just to throw it to the squid!"

Ethan poked at the drumstick, which was cold and stiff and stuck to the plate. "But this is gross," Ethan said, trying not to whine and mostly failing. "I want a real breakfast! You know, toast and stuff!"

"Well, maybe you'll think of that next time you leave your dinner just sitting there! There are starving wizards in Ethiopia who would _love_ to get their hands on this."

"Then give it to the starving wizards in Ethiopia!" Ethan snapped.

"It's no use arguing; the same thing happened to me," Nicholas said, "and Edward, but Edward" Nicholas just shook his head.

"The rabbit was _much_ tastier after sitting out all night," Edward said, licking his lips.

Ethan wrinkled his nose, then noticed a platter full of toast a few feet away. He glanced shiftily at his plate, then leaned over to grab a piece.

His knife whooshed into the air of its own accord, and the flat of the blade smacked Ethan's hand sharply. "Don't even _think_ about it, young man!" The plate snapped.

Ethan pulled his hand back with a resigned sigh, and Nicholas poured him a large glass of juice.

"Here, it can't stop you from drinking, at least." Nicholas shoved the glass over. Ethan sighed into the orange juice, but it was better than his other two options: nothing or nasty leftovers.

"I _told_ you," Fawkes said quietly. The bird glanced over at Harry and snickered, "Heh, there's still a wee bit in his hair"

"Oh, Fawkes," Ethan muttered dourly, sipping at his orange juice.

Professor McGonagall walked down the table, handing out schedules. Ethan picked his up and looked it over.

"History of Magic this morning what a way to wake up," Nicholas said, scanning his copy. "Then Charms with the Ravenclaws, then lunch and Defense Against the Dark Arts afterwards."

"Have you heard who the new teacher is?" Ethan asked, swirling his juice around in the glass, creating a tangerine tornado.

"No, and no one mentioned there being anyone new at the head table last night. But it isn't like I would have recognized the teacher if I saw them, anyway," Nicholas said with a shrug.

"I heard the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is a penguin," Edward piped up.

"Why would Dumbledore hire a _penguin_?" Ethan asked, saving Nicholas the trouble.

"Well," Edward replied as if it was the most logical thing in the world, "how many _penguins_ do you see getting killed by Death Eaters? _None_." He sat back and folded his arms smugly. "They must know something we don't."

"Or they must live in Antarctica, where no self-respecting Death Eater would want to bother with them," Nicholas offered, rolling his eyes.

"Well, moving to Antarctica _would_ be a good defense, wouldn't it?" Edward shot back.

"I think we're going to be learning more _practical_ defense," Ethan said quickly before the argument could escalate. "And either way, we won't be learning about it until after lunch."

Once the boys had finished their juice, they trooped back up to Gryffindor tower to grab their books for History of Magic. Then they began a search for the room, Fawkes refusing to help with directions no matter how many times Ethan asked. This prompted Edward to try asking, despite the fact that he wasn't a parrotmouth, so he was only really just making random bird noises.

"He sounds like a goshawk with a thick goldfinchian accent," Fawkes cackled. "I'm tempted to give you guys directions just to humor him."

"Trust me, Fawkes," Ethan twittered darkly back, "the _last_ thing this kid needs is to be humored."

Surprisingly, they stumbled across the room completely by accident. Fawkes was disappointed.

"Well, kid, here is where I leave you. I doubt Binns would notice me sitting there but if he did, I doubt he'd be happy. I'll see you around. _Study hard_," he added in a high-pitched impression of Ethan's mom. Ethan waved the bird off impatiently, then took a deep breath and stepped into the room behind Nicholas, Edward trailing behind him.

Ethan and Nicholas grabbed seats right next to each other, leaving Edward to sit behind them next to (ironically) Annabelle, who looked less than enthusiastic about the seating arrangements. Ethan pulled out his textbook and a bit of parchment for note taking. Then he held up a quill and a small bottle of ink.

He regarded the quill dubiously. He had never written with one before in his life. And it just seemed so unnecessarily primitive did ballpoint pens not function properly on Hogwarts grounds? And, to make things worse, Ethan was left-handed. Unless the ink dried very quickly, he was going to end up with an unreadable smear for notes. 'Forget it,' Ethan thought to himself, quietly putting the quill and ink away.

He had bought a book bag in Diagon Alley that contained a small pocket; the pocket being enchanted to contain whatever little object the owner might need. He decided to test it out. He fished around in his bag for a moment, and emerged a moment later with an ordinary number 2 pencil clutched triumphantly in his hand. "Booya," he muttered under his breath.

"What are you doing?" Nicholas asked quietly, looking incredulously at the pencil as if it was a ticking time bomb.

"I can't write with a quill," Ethan whispered back. "And this seems easier."

"I dunno," Nicholas said doubtfully. "Everyone else is using a quill, aren't they?"

"Well" Ethan looked around shiftily, then reached back into his bag and pulled out his quill and, courtesy of the magic pocket, a small rubber band. Glancing up at the front of the room to make sure Binns hadn't entered yet, Ethan laid the quill alongside the pencil and banded the two together. He held up the finished product and grinned. He could write with the pencil all he liked, and it would look like he was using his quill unless someone looked very closely. "There! See?"

Nicholas just shook his head. And Professor Binns drifted into the room.

Ethan had never seen a ghost before, and for a moment his hair stood on end. But as far as ghosts went, Binns was about as unthreatening as they came, so Ethan soon got over the initial shock. Binns looked over the class list and did roll call; he didn't react at all to Ethan's name, which relieved the boy greatly. Once roll call was finished, the ghost launched right into a lecture, his dry monotone difficult to focus on. Even so, the classroom was filled with the scratching of quills and the quiet whisper-swish of Ethan's pencil.

"In the beginning," Binns said, "our people were one people, but then came the great nebula burst"

Ethan read over what he had written, did a double take, and then looked up sharply. 'Nebula burst'?! What was Binns talking about?

"And it came to pass that Ilúvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme" Binns droned on. Ethan resisted the urge to jam his pinky in his ear and wiggle it about. He glanced around, and saw that all of the other students were busily taking notes, as if the lecture made perfect sense. So he reluctantly began writing down the nonsense Binns was spewing, though not without the occasional incredulous glance in Binns's direction.

The entire class period passed in just that way. Binns calmly recited what seemed to Ethan to be a bunch of disjointed, random BS, and everyone frantically scribbled it down as if there was going to be a pop quiz at the end of the period. The only good thing to come of it, as far as Ethan was concerned, was the knowledge that his pencil-quill would probably continue to go unnoticed.

"Well, that was educational!" Edward chirped optimistically as the Gryffindors hurried gratefully out of the room. The boy had, at some point during the class period, dipped his fingers in his inkwell and painted war stripes (or were they meant to be badger stripes?) on his face. The ink was one of those color-changing types, making Edward's cheeks flash like a neon sign. Annabelle also had war stripes, Ethan noticed with a rush of pity, though she looked much less enthused about them. Perhaps it was the fact that they were only on one side of her face, and a bit lopsided from her too-late attempt to dodge Edward's ink-covered fingers.

The Gryffindors swarmed to Charms in a pack, figuring that if they got lost they would at least all be late together. Annabelle ducked into a girls' bathroom halfway there, probably to scrub frantically at her face.

They managed to find their way to the Charms classroom with a few minutes to spare. The classroom was set up with several long tables set along each wall and facing inwards, almost like a jury box. Ethan slid down the second table on the right side, ending up between David Thorp, a fellow first-year Gryffindor who never merited mentioning until now, and Nicholas. Edward sat on Nicholas's other side and took out his wand, swishing it experimentally.

"Give me that back!" Nicholas grabbed his wand and scowled. "Go play with your own!" Edward shrugged off the scolding as the Ravenclaw first-years filed into the tables on the other side of the classroom. Ethan frowned; the Ravenclaws were probably going to excel at all of the spells right away. He took out his own wand and twirled it pensively between his fingers.

Annabelle came dashing in a minutes later, looking much more cheerful as she had successfully gotten rid of the ink. But her smile instantly evaporated when she saw that the only empty seat left was at the end of the table next to Edward, who grinned and twiddled his fingers at her.

Ethan felt bad for the poor girl, who looked like she was about to cry, and nudged Nicholas lightly. "Tell Edward to move down, will you?"

Nicholas nodded and poked Edward none-too-lightly in the ribs. "Budge up, you." Edward obligingly moved over one seat, followed by Nicholas and Ethan. That left the spot between Ethan and the unimportant bit character open. Annabelle gratefully squeezed behind the three boys and plopped into the empty seat.

"Thanks," she whispered fervently, brushing her dark hair behind her ears.

"No problem," Ethan whispered back. "Edward can be difficult."

Annabelle snorted at the understatement as Professor Flitwick entered the room and climbed the stack of books behind the podium.

"Welcome, new students, to Hogwarts," he squeaked excitedly, looking around the classroom. "I am Professor Flitwick, and shall be teaching you Charms! Now, if you will all raise your hands when I call your name" he took out a long roll of parchment and began the obligatory roll call. Unlike Binns, however, he _did_ react to Ethan's name. "Ethan Williams oh!" The professor looked up and beamed at Ethan, who had timidly raised his hand. "Our new main character, and from America as well! It will be a positive _honor_ to teach you, my boy!"

"Uh, thanks," Ethan said, turning pink and lowering his hand. Flitwick stared at him for a moment longer with a huge grin on his face, sighed blissfully, and then went back to the roll call.

"Today," Flitwick announced after finishing roll call, "we shall be learning one of the most basic spells there is, and one that every wizard should know! That is the spell for light. The incantation is _lumos_!" Flitwick's wand lit up like a penlight. "Everyone try!"

The whole class held out their wands nervously. Well, almost the whole class. Edward whipped up his wand with a flourish and fairly shouted _"LUMOS!!" _The end of his wand lit up like a beacon, temporarily blinding all of the Ravenclaws and all of the Gryffindors who had been looking so, all of the Gryffindors as well.

"Very good, Mr. Fairfax!" Flitwick exclaimed as he keeled over and pressed his hands over his eyes. "Everyone try, just wait until you're eyes are back in focus, that's it"

Ethan blinked furiously until he was able to see properly, then held up his wand. _"Lumos!"_ he said with more confidence than he felt. But his wand lit up nicely, glowing a comforting shade of gold.

"Excellent, Williams!" Flitwick cried, clapping his hands with delight. Ethan grinned as well; he wasn't a failure! His wand worked! He was a _wizard_!

The rest of the class period was spent practicing _lumos_, and for the most part went smoothly. There was one instance where someone's wand began flashing like a strobe light (due, according to Flitwick, to improper pronunciation) and Edward claimed to be an epileptic and fell out of his chair, twitching. Flitwick was beside himself until Edward sat up, perfectly fine and claiming that his faith in Goc, the badger God, had healed him. Flitwick looked puzzled but happy Edward was all right; Ethan just shook his head and went back to practicing.

[====]==============

By the time class was over, Ethan's stomach was rumbling. He had found a packet of saltines in the magic pocket, but saltines and orange juice was still a miserable breakfast/brunch. He streamed gratefully into the Great Hall with the rest of the students and sat down. His gratitude multiplied when his plate provided a sandwich, some macaroni and cheese , and a quivering mound of Jell-O instead of last night's leftovers. The lunch wasn't as fancy as the feast had been, but it was infinitely more palatable than the leftovers.

The meal was made more enjoyable for Ethan when Ruhún came to visit.

"I was in the owlery," the young barred owl explained, blinking. "They were all really nice up there."

"I'm glad," Ethan grinned around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly.

"Have your classes been all right?" Ruhún asked, recognizing Edward across the table and scooting a bit closer to Ethan's neck.

"Surprisingly well. History of Magic was well, frankly, weird. But Charms was fun. I can light up my wand now." Ethan demonstrated.

"Just what this room needs; more light," Ruhún grumbled, shutting his eyes. Ethan laughed and offered the owl some of his pumpkin juice. Ruhún took a dainty sip, then ruffled his feathers. "I'm off to take a nap. Hope your next class goes well" the owl shot Edward another dubious glance, then took off.

Lunch was over shortly afterwards, and the Gryffindors swarmed together again to find the DADA classroom. It was down on the first floor, and not too difficult to find between them.

Ethan, along with everyone else, was awed when he stepped into the classroom. It had been somehow bewitched to look exactly like a forest clearing. The air was hushed and close inside, the only sound being muffled birdsong. He, along with everyone else, found places on the grass to sit and looked around with a mixture of fascination and nervousness. And he, along with everyone else, gaped when their teacher appeared.

"Greetings," the centaur said in a low voice that was pleasant yet strangely unobtrusive; the kind of voice you'd stop noticing once you stopped listening. His cool, blue eyes swept over the class, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Ethan. "I am Firenze, and I shall be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a collective silence. Then one student piped up, "But you don't even have a wand!"

Firenze transferred his piercing gaze to the person who had made the comment, a girl named Emily who looked like she deeply regretted opening her mouth. "That is true," Firenze said mildly, "I do not have a wand. Can anyone tell me why?"

There was an even deeper silence as everyone tried not to be noticed. Ethan felt a sinking sensation in his stomach; the same sensation any student feels moments before they rightly suspect they will be called on, and do not know the answer. Sure enough, he found the centaurs eyes on him again.

"What is your name?"

"Ethan," Ethan replied, swallowing.

"Care to venture a guess?"

"Uh" Ethan thought quickly. He had no idea what the right answer was, and couldn't even come up with something flattering or amusing. He had the feeling that Firenze would see through flattery in a moment, anyway, and that a sarcastic answer would not be appreciated. He decided to go with honesty. "I don't know."

"I do not have a wand," Firenze said, still looking at Ethan, "because I do not need one." He lifted a hoof and set it down with a thump, then went back to surveying the class. "Curses, hexes, and fancy wand-work is useless if you do not know _when_ to use it, and needless if you learn to recognize and avoid dangerous situations. I cannot teach you a spell that will save you if you should encounter the Dark Lord or one of his servants. What I can teach you is how to recognize a servant of the Dark Lord and avoid situations in which you may be endangered."

Several students exchanged glances. "Sir," Nicholas said carefully, "we're supposed to be learning how to defend ourselves aren't we?"

Firenze gazed at the boy. "Would you rather duel a Death Eater, or never encounter one?"

"Well never encounter one," Nicholas replied, looking confused.

"The Dark Lord," Firenze said firmly, "is evil. As are his servants. A creature of the forest could sense that evil from miles away. Although your human senses have been dulled by the lights and noises of the lives you lead, you will find that you, too, can sense it if you concentrate and learn what to look, listen, and feel for." He began to pace back and forth, tail swishing as he spoke. "Your human intuition can be a remarkable thing. It processes details you don't even realize you are absorbing, it allows you to go from A to Z without bothering with any of the letters in between. And if you learn to _listen_ to it," he stopped pacing, "you will find no need to duel for your life. You will _know_ when there is evil present or approaching, the same way that Ethan _knew_ I was going to call on him before I actually did so." Ethan looked up in surprise as everyone darted glances in his direction.

"It still doesn't seem to me," Nicholas said, looking terrified at his own boldness, "that this could help us I mean, what if we _do_ find ourselves stuck in a duel with with You-Know-Who? It seems to me that there should be something we can do if we don't just want to to run away."

Firenze's gaze softened slightly. "You are brave, but you are only a child. There is no shame in fleeing from the Dark Lord's presence."

"There's no glory, either," Edward chimed in with his customary directness, though he actually looked serious.

"You are here to learn _defense_ against the dark arts," Firenze said simply, "not heroics in the face of certain death. Defense is what I shall teach you. If," he surveyed the class again, looking at each student individually, "you are willing to learn."

[====]==============

The first-year Gryffindors walked slowly back to the common room, talking amongst themselves in subdued voices. It had certainly been an _interesting_ first lesson. Ethan wasn't sure if he bought in to Firenze's approach to defense or not. He certainly didn't relish the idea of dueling with a Death Eater but then again, the whole avoiding evil plan did sound a little bit like cowardice.

One thing was for certain: he was going to have an interesting year. And this was only day one.

[====]==============

Whew! How's THAT for a forking long chapter? Don't get too used to it the next chapter might be near this long, but none of the others will, hehe. And, in case you were wondering, the first line of Binns's lesson is from "Galaxy Quest," and the second bit is from page one of _The Silmarillion_. Now, for responses!

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Hirilnara: And another new chapter! That's okay, I know how it is. It's only seven pm here, hehehe.

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FreakyKat: Well, Edward was probably lying about the badger bit. ;-) Watch out, Harry!

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QuirkyWriter: It's quite all right, hehe. A few people missed the last one for some reason. Glad you like Edward and the poor unappreciated hat, haha. And yeah, I'm not sure what her deal was, but I gave her a telling-off.

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Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Yay, thanks for the long review! Another Edward fan, hehehe. People love that crazy kid. And I know I've written better, but yeah just unnecessary. (shakes head)

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anya: He was just mad because no one appreciated him. The baked beans thing I explained up top. Glad you're warming up to Edward, hehehe.

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Meee: Yes, the baked beans are a British thing, hehehe. I don't know firsthand though, I've only heard things. I hope you like what Fawkes actually did to Harry, heh heh. And look, I've gone and done it with startling alacrity! Whee new chapter!

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Kathryn Bushore: He does, and they do. Sad, isn't it?

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Ember the angry Firedrake: "Why do we even HAVE that lever?" Hehehehe! Hope the Poe reference didn't drive you TOO nuts! Ooh, the Black Cat that is a freaky one. But it's Poe, so go figure.

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The Fantastic Fangirls: Gah! Sorry, I'll get to it! (offers you cookies instead)

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Black Jaguar12: Well, there's nothing wrong with being abnormal. You're in good company, at least. ;-) And I did leave another response that was less cordial it's the long one. I feel kind of bad. But not bad enough to not post it. Thanks for the support!

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TheSiriusSparrow: I hate it when is a butt. And you'll be seeing plenty of Harry soon enough but that's all I'm going to say. Muahaha.

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Syth Colbalt: I find it a bit rich that you have accused _me_ of being harsh when, in case you didn't notice, your review was at least twice as bad as the response it prompted. But if I am going to be called "harsh" I figure I might as well deserve it, so here I go:

I am not sure what kind of response you were expecting when you referred to a chapter I had worked hard on as "tripe." And I suppose I could have taken the whole review with a grain of salt if I thought you were saying I wasn't writing up to my own standards. But you seemed to be implying that I wasn't writing up to _yours_, and frankly, I'm not writing this fic just for you. I'm writing it largely for myself and my own enjoyment and amusement. And secondly, I am writing it for the amusement and enjoyment of _all_ of my readers _as a whole_. So it would be both irrational and impractical for me to scrap an entire chapter and start over simply because it didn't make _you_ giggle as much as you usually do. I liked the chapter; everyone else liked it, and I found the overall tone of your review cocky and patronizing and the request for me to "scrap the chapter ASAP" startlingly selfish and arrogant, especially coming from you. Also, "trying to help suddenly becomes a flame" when you use words such as "stupid" and "tripe" in the review (which does not lend itself to helpfulness), and just generally imply that an entire chapter of a fic is complete crap - as you did. And frankly, I find the fact that you seem completely unaware of how "harsh" _your_ review was puzzling and more than a little bit disturbing. I don't know, maybe you were having a bad day or something. But you can't honestly look back over that review and tell me that it was "constructive criticism." It was a verbal slamming, and I am honestly very sorry that it has taken another one to make you understand that assuming that you do now understand.

Okay, I'm done now. Sorry, I just had to get all that out and I am genuinely happy that you liked the last chapter better. Sorry if this offended you, and I hope you liked the first day of Ethan's classes, and the extra-long mega-chapter. The story should be picking up from here, so there shouldn't be any instances of me just trying to fill space. And if I _do_ put out a chapter that I am not entirely pleased with, I'll say so. :-P And I'm pretty sure there aren't going to be any new major characters added; they'll either be people you already know or brief mentions of people who aren't all that important. So it shouldn't be too tough to keep them straight. Sorry again, and I hope there's no hard feelings, since you are one of my favorite reviewers and I was really just puzzled and saddened by this whole thing more than anything else. :-

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Ainu Laire: Everyone loves the crazies, hahaha. What do you think of the new DADA teacher? Not exactly comical, but intriguing, I think.

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MunkieButt: Glad you're enjoying the fic so far, even though you aren't going to get to this response for a while, hehe.

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Maura Labingi: Just making sure all of my readers are safe. ;-) Glad you're enjoying it! No such thing as "way too much," hehehe!

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Fuji the Hobbit: Well, what do you think of the new DADA teacher? I thought the fic needed some gravity, hehehe. Awww, get more sugar!

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Pointy Ears Are My Thing: Shame on you. ;-) Hehehehe.

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morph: Yeah, it wasn't cool especially since it came from a fan. It was really puzzling. And I'm sorry you got one they just suck. If people can't at least exercise SOME tact, they should keep their opinions to themselves. Snape will be next chapter I had to save him so this chapter didn't have all the excitement, hahaha. Thanks bunches!

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Vanyaria Darkshadow: Woo! How's this for a kerazy quick update? Yeah, go figure I had fun with that name, though. His parents had no imagination. ;-) HAHA that would have been terrible! No, Annabelle is a witch. The hat is just getting up there in years. And an Edward fan club! It was bound to happen; the kid has fan ART already! Glad you liked Ethan's sorting I giggled aloud while writing it. That hat is just too much. Sorry about the cliffhanger, though I hope the snappy update makes up for it. And I can assure you that Snape, through Ethan's eyes, is not going to be a 'deliciously pale sex god'. ;-) That would be wrong. Just wrong. But he will have a different view of Snape than Harry does. And I simply _have_ to respond when people write such nice reviews! (hugs) Rock on!

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Spoofmaster: Well, there is now an Edward fan club. (directs you to review right above yours)

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Mint Sauce: It's like a double dose of goodness, because you are reviewing my fic AND backing me up! ;-) Hope you don't think I went to overboard; I think yours was the only input I didn't get while writing it. (hugs) I hope you finish the blasted book soon; I miss you!

WOO REVIEWS! So you all get LEFTOVER JELL-O! Everyone loves Jell-O! And it's good it hasn't been sitting out all night. ;-) I LOVE YOU ALL TO BITS!

-Platy


	10. Second Day of School!

First of all, huge apologies for the equally huge delay. You probably all thought I'd died or something. :P School has been kicking my ass - thus no updates last semester. I'm sorry about the hiatus. I'll try to update as much as I can, though!

And by the way, some of my character's opinions on the wonderful J.K. Rowling do not reflect my own... just so you know. (coughs)

Now, on with the chapter!

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Breakfast the next morning was more pleasant than breakfast the morning before had been. At dinner the previous evening, Ethan had been very careful to put nothing on his plate that he didn't plan on eating, and as such there were no disgusting leftovers to offer. His knife only twitched morosely as he grabbed two slices of toast with a tiny smirk.

"Today's schedule," Nicholas read aloud as Edward focused on slathering his eggs in a horseradish sauce that practically made Ethan's eyes water from across the table, "Transfiguration this morning, then Herbology, then lunch, then Potions. And flying lessons are every Wednesday afternoon."

"Oh boy," Ethan muttered, suddenly plagued by visions of his broom whomping the snot out of all the first years. That twiggy menace probably needed lessons at least as badly as he did, Ethan reflected as he grabbed his sulking knife and smeared some peanut butter on his toast.

"Oh, lighten up," Fawkes coughed from his customary perch on Ethan's shoulder. "You've flown before and you didn't make a bloody hash of it! You're a natural, like I said!" He took a long, sanctimonious drag of his cigarette.

"Why is that bird smoking?" Annabelle asked from the other side of the table, watching Fawkes with some concern.

"Why not?" Edward asked, wide-eyed and baffled as if there was nothing more normal than a bird lighting up at the breakfast table.

"He's kind of bitter because of..." Ethan looked nervously up the table at Harry, who was talking with Ron and Hermione and facing away from them. Drawing courage from this, Ethan continued, "Well, because of the whole Chamber of Secrets ordeal."

Nicholas and Annabelle immediately leaned in, intrigued. Edward continued to look politely baffled. No doubt because he was a badger when the whole thing happened, Ethan thought to himself before continuing in a low voice.

"Fawkes feels bitter because he says he did all the work, but Harry took all the credit," Ethan explained, glancing periodically up the table to make sure he wasn't being overheard. "I mean, Fawkes blinded it, and brought the sorting hat, and healed Harry's arm, and carried them all out of the Chamber... but Harry got most of the glory, didn't he?" Something about bad-mouthing Harry was giving Ethan a grim little thrill. The waves of approval and occasional muttered "you tell 'em" or "represent!" from Fawkes probably had something to do with it. But there was something more as well. Ethan was so used to viewing Hogwarts through Harry's eyes. But this, he realized with a rush of empowerment, was _his_ story. He could think what he liked. And if Harry disliked him for whatever reason... well, maybe that didn't matter.

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The Gryffindors managed to be on time for Transfiguration as well, using the same traveling _en masse_ technique from the day before. They slid into their seats, shooting half-curious, half-knowing glances at the tabby cat sitting on McGonagall's desk.

Once everyone was seated and had fresh parchment set in front of them, the cat leaped off the desk and transformed in mid-air into Professor McGonagall, who landed with only the tiniest of stumbles. No one batted an eye, much to the Professor's disappointment.

"Well," McGonagall said icily, "you students just get harder and harder to impress! Good thing that Rowling hack didn't copy down every incantation, or I suppose I'd have nothing to offer you!" She glared over her spectacles at each student individually, then snapped open a roll of parchment and began barking out roll call in clipped, angry tones. The students exchanged frightened glances. They were thirty seconds into class, and already their house leader despised them.

"Welcome to Transfiguration," McGonagall said in the same tone as before. "Here you will learn the subtle art of transforming - or transfiguring - one object into another." She flicked her wand, and a raven turned into a writing desk and back again with a squawk of protest. "Though," she added with a trace of sarcasm, "I'm sure you all knew that already."

"I didn't!" Edward said happily. An expression of deepest distaste flickered across the Professor's face.

"You may have read the books," she continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "but do not let that make you complacent! In fact, to ensure that you do not leave this classroom with inflated egos, we shall all do an activity that will illustrate just how little you do know." This idea evidently pleased her, as the corners of her mouth twitched upward in something like a sadistic smirk. She swished her wand viciously through the air, and the students found themselves looking down at a bunch of fuzzy, yellow ducklings - one for every person. Several girls squeaked with delight as the ducklings nibbled at the parchment, peeped at one another, and attempted to waddle across the slippery wooden desks.

"You shall all attempt to turn these ducklings into draclings," McGonagall said triumphantly. "The incantation is _Anatidracus_!" She waved her wand at one of the ducklings, which leaped into the air and sprouted scales. By the time it had landed, it was a twelve-inch baby dragon with large, startled green eyes. The class clapped dutifully; McGonagall waved the gesture off. "Go on, you know the spell!"

Ethan held out his wand and looked dubiously at his duckling, which to his ears was babbling baby nonsense, the bird equivalent of "goo goo ga ga." His stomach lurched unpleasantly. He couldn't transfigure a _baby_.

Nicholas waved his wand uncertainly and said, _"Anatidracus?"_ His duckling sneezed out a single puff of smoke, but other than that, there was no change. Ethan found this encouraging, so he screwed up his courage, waved his own wand, and repeated the incantation. He got a step farther than Nicholas; his duckling's tiny baby wings went from downy to leathery and bat-like. The duckling looked back at its new wings in bafflement and flapped them a few times, peeping in shock.

To McGonagall's delight and Ethan's relief, no one made much progress with their ducklings. Unless you counted Edward, who decided he'd get further making up his _own_ incantations and wound up turning his duckling into an aerosol spray can of room deodorizer ("Mountain Breeze"). McGonagall looked like she couldn't decide whether to be impressed by the neat job or stern because it was nothing like what was _supposed_ to happen. But the rest of the ducklings were either completely normal or only bearing a few vaguely draconian characteristics, like tiny horns, patches of scales, or longer tails. A few were shooting sparks every time they peeped, which alarmed them and caused them to peep more often, creating a cycle of flying sparks and duckling distress.

With another violent swish of her wand, McGonagall turned most of the ducklings back to normal. The sparking ones she put in a box, instructing a house elf to take them to Hagrid. "I daresay he'll get some enjoyment out of them," she said with the barest hint of amusement in her voice before turning back to the class. "Your assignment for next class is to read chapter one of your textbook, and write a twelve-inch essay on what you think those miserable Harry Potter books have _honestly_ taught you. Class dismissed!"

The students swarmed gratefully out into the hallway, not even daring to groan at the homework assignment. What, Ethan wondered, had _that_ all been about?

"Someone seems just a little bitter, wouldn't you say?" Annabelle muttered under her breath to Ethan and Nicholas as they walked up to Gryffindor tower to get their Herbology supplies.

"Just a _bit_," Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Who shoved a broomstick up _her_ arse?"

"Well, she'd been teaching here for years before the books were written," Ethan reasoned. "And now suddenly Hogwarts is famous, _she's_ even famous if you want to get technical... and she's all old and stuff. Maybe she couldn't handle the change. Oof," Ethan added as Fawkes flapped down from out of nowhere and landed heavily on his shoulder.

"What were we discussing?" Fawkes asked, folding his wings and hacking delicately.

"McGonagall," Ethan said simply. "We just had our first Transfiguration lesson."

"Oh, that old broad." Fawkes laughed. "She's pushing senility. The combination of the books and that whole sex scandal..."

__

"Sex scandal?" Ethan interrupted shrilly. Nicholas, Annabelle, and Edward watched in fascination, not having any idea what was being said.

"Did I say that?" Fawkes blinked innocently.

"Never mind. I don't want to know." Ethan shook his head briskly.

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"So, what did Fawkes say?" Nicholas whispered to Ethan half an hour later as they were trooping down towards the greenhouses.

"That McGonagall's pretty much crazy," Ethan said after a moment's deliberation. He decided not to mention the 'sex scandal' bit. He very much just wanted to forget Fawkes had even said it.

The greenhouses were arranged numerically, with Greenhouse One being closest to the castle and Greenhouse Eight being farthest away. As Ethan looked curiously down at Greenhouse Eight, wondering what could be inside, a harried-looking wizard with what appeared to be a dead Mersheep flung over his shoulder walked up to the greenhouse and nudged open the door. A deafening, "FEED ME!" blasted the man's hair back, but he steeled himself and stepped inside. The door shut quietly, but a moment later a loud crunching sound emanated from Greenhouse Eight. The students exchanged nervous glances.

"Never you mind that," a squat witch who could only be Professor Sprout said, ushering the students towards Greenhouse One. "Come on, there's nothing to see..."

"What _was_ that?" Annabelle asked as the professor walked past her.

"Audrey III," Professor Sprout explained. "Nothing for you to worry about, anyway. Into the greenhouse, come on!"

Herbology was second only to History of Magic when it came to uneventful first days. Professor Sprout gave an overview of the sorts of things they would be doing over the course of the year, and then set the students to doing the mundane task of filling pots with dirt for later use. It gave Ethan, Nicholas, and Annabelle a chance to chat idly, but other than that, it was terribly dull work. Edward didn't join in the conversation, as he was thoroughly absorbed in pawing through the dirt.

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It was with a feeling of dread that Ethan trooped down to the dungeons for double Potions with, ironically, the Slytherins. He had hardly touched his lunch. While the rational part of his brain reasoned that Snape had no particular cause to hate him as he did Harry, the rest of his brain was terrified that the Potions Master would simply find a reason. There were enough to choose from. Ethan wasn't from Britain, he was in Gryffindor house, he wasn't astoundingly talented in anything magical as far as he could tell (if you didn't count the fact that he was a parrotmouth, which was really beyond his control). And he was the main character. It was a widely known fact that had helped him often, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't get any brownie points from Snape. He really doubted that the Potions master gave brownie points to anyone who wasn't a Slytherin.

The dungeon classroom was Snape-free when the students filed into their seats. Well, everyone except Edward. The boy was peering intently at the various creatures - or pieces of creatures - that the professor kept on shelves along the walls of the room.

"I think this one's still alive," Edward observed a moment before professor Snape silently entered the room.

"Sit down," the Potions Master ordered as he swept up to the front of the room like a large bat. Edward slid into an empty seat with just one backward glance towards the jars.

Snape turned around and regarded the class with dark eyes. Ethan resisted the urge to sink in his seat, especially when he saw that the Slytherins were (for the most part) looking perfectly relaxed. There were a few that looked a tad apprehensive, which was comforting (Ethan thought he recognized them as being from that questionable stretch of eight Slytherin students in a row during the Sorting). So Ethan sat up straight and did his best to look studious, but not like a know-it-all.

Snape snapped open a piece of parchment and began roll call. Like Flitwick, he paused after Ethan's name. But unlike Flitwick, it wasn't to beam happily.

"Ethan Williams... our new protagonist." He regarded the boy with an expression Ethan couldn't read. "Let us hope that you don't turn out like the last one."

Ethan recalled the unfriendly look he'd received from the Boy Who Lived. _I don't plan on it,_ he thought but didn't say. As if reading this thought, Snape raised an eyebrow very slightly, then snapped the roll of parchment shut and tucked it away.

"Assuming," Snape said quietly, "that you are not all surrounded by the aura of glaring ineptitude that most of my other students have possessed, this could be a productive year." He looked over the class and sneered slightly. "But I will not get my hopes too high." Nicholas looked at Ethan with raised eyebrows; Ethan shrugged very slightly. "The headmaster of this fine institution," Snape oozed on, "has put you all here so that I can teach you the subtle, complex art of potion-making. I expect that very few of you will have the patience to excel in this class... or the appreciation of the subject to care. However, rest assured that I will push each and every one of you to perform to the best of your ability." He paused and sneered again. "Regardless of how deplorable your 'best' may be." Ethan looked discreetly around the classroom; everyone looked terrified except for Edward, who was smiling somewhat vacantly. He found this slightly worrisome. In his mind, there was a time and place for vacant smiling, and Potions class was _not_ it.

"Those of you who have read the books," Snape continued, "will have some idea of what we shall be doing in this class. In fact, those of you who read thoroughly may expect to be paired off shortly in order to brew a simple spell that cures boils." He smiled dryly. "If that sounds right to you, I am very pleased to tell you that you are quite wrong. We will not be brewing any medicinal spells in this class. I don't suppose anyone can tell me why." He raised an eyebrow.

Silence reigned.

"I thought as much," Snape said. "I suppose I shall have to tell you. We will not be brewing anything medicinal in nature because it would be pointless. If any of you managed to brew something satisfactory-and that's a large 'if'- it would still be useless because you are students. The Ministry won't risk anyone getting ill off of a student-made potion; everything in the hospital wing comes from certified potion providers."

Edward raised his hand. "What _will_ we be making, then?"

"Until I get the list of acceptable potions from the Ministry," Snape said with a trace of bitterness, "we shall not be making anything." He glared at his podium for a moment, his mouth a thin, angry line. Then he looked up. "However, our time shall not be wasted. There is no substitute for experience, but in this case, it appears I shall be forced to make one. Open your books to page 112; we're going to start with potion theory."

After an hour of studying the various methods of stirring (of which there were far too many, in Ethan's opinion), the class was finally dismissed. Their homework was another twelve-inch essay, this one on how a wizard would _theoretically_ brew a simple potion to cure boils. "Pay particular attention," Snape said, "to the direction of the stirring and the angle of the spoon." He spoke as if each word was painful.

The students streamed gratefully out of the dungeon.

"I thought that was going to be _terrible_," Annabelle said, looking relieved.

"And instead, it was dead boring," Nicholas finished, rolling his eyes. "I think I'd rather have Snape breathing down my neck while I do something productive than have him breathing down my neck while I do something bloody pointless." He wrinkled his nose. "I mean, really. Spoon angles?"

"I think it's interesting," Edward said in his eternal quest to disagree with everyone, particularly Nicholas.

"And it isn't his fault," Ethan added. "I mean, you could tell _he_ didn't want us to get into all of this theory stuff... at least, not yet."

"There's my liddle protagonist!" Fawkes landed on Ethan's shoulder. "How did you like the bat-cave?" He hacked vigorously into his wing.

"It was pretty boring, actually."

"Well, that's to be expected." Fawkes ruffled his feathers. "Ever since they found out Voldemort was back, the Ministry's had a broomstick up their arse about everything. They're not going to let Snape teach the students to brew anything that could conceivably be used for evil."

"Curing boils is evil?"

"No, but brewing a potion that _should_ cure boils but instead causes slow, painful death would be." Fawkes shrugged. "Don't ask me how those buggers think, kid, 'cause I don't know."

They reached the portrait hole. The fat lady took one look at Ethan and Fawkes and swung open without question. "Well," Fawkes said, producing a cigarette from somewhere and lighting up as Ethan trudged up to the first-year's dormitory, "now that you've gotten your second day under your belt, what are you going to do?"

Ethan threw his bookbag on his bed. He was about to say that he had no idea when Nicholas walked into the room behind him.

"Hey, Ethan, you ever play football?" He held up a soccer ball and twirled it between his fingers.

Ethan nearly said, "That isn't a football," but stopped himself just in time. "Yeah, a little," he said with a smile.

"We were going to go out and play a bit," Nicholas said, gesturing over his shoulder to David and a few second-years that Ethan didn't know. "Want to come? You can show us what you Americans can do."

"You humans and your physical activities," Fawkes grumbled, blowing a stream of smoke out the window.

"Okay," Ethan grinned, shrugging off his robe so he was just in jeans and a t-shirt. "Let's go."

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There you have it! A nice, long chapter, eh?

I know that I normally do review responses, and I know that you all look forward to them. But I've been harassed by a troll lately-some jackass who seems to be taking credit for the recent removal of my Mary-Sue Mockfest. And I have heard that reviewer responses can be considered "interactive" and grounds for removal. Personally, I think that's bullshit, and multiple readings of the FFN guidelines have not turned up any rule that forbids responses but since this person has been hanging around lately, I'm going to play it safe and not do responses this chapter.

This doesn't mean that I don't appreciate every single review I receive! And if any of you are still reading this, thanks for being patient. Hopefully updates will be more frequent, as my course load this semester isn't as bad as last semester. I love you all! Giant, man-eating, talking plants for everyone!

Platy


	11. Blatant Exposition

Sorry about the large gap in updates… but here is a nice long chapter for all of you who are still reading this. ;)

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Disclaimer: This fanfic may cause dizziness.

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A young American boy in black robes was standing on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, holding a broomstick very tightly.

The image of the apprehensive-looking boy was reflected in a piece of green glass.

The glass was being watched by the red eyes of Lord Voldemort.

Altogether, the green and red effect was almost Christmas-y.

"You are quite positive?" The Dark Lord said with a voice that was nothing short of _oily_.

"Quite sure, my lord," a quivering Wormtail said from where he was kneeling subserviently on the floor.

"Quite sure?" Voldemort repeated, giving his servant a disdainful glance.

"P-positive, my lord," Wormtail elaborated. "He's d-definitely the new protagonist."

"Stop stuttering; you sound like a right Rain Man." Voldemort sat back in his outrageously large armchair. It was made of obsidian, human bones, and a little bit of lace. He liked it. "So, the Boy Who Lived is no longer the main character…" the Dark Lord mused to himself, stroking his chin with a long, pale finger.

"Not only that," Wormtail stumbled along nervously, "b-but the main character doesn't even like Harry much."

Voldemort's eyes lit up. "Is that _so_?" Before he could continue, someone cleared their throat purposefully.

Voldemort's grin of delight collapsed into an expression of mild to moderate annoyance. He glanced upward with a sneer. "What!" he snapped belligerently.

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You know very well "what."

Wormtail cringed and bent closer to the ground. Voldemort looked disgruntled.

"No, I don't know. Why don't you _enlighten_ me," he looked upwards expectantly.

The voice sighed. **You're hogging the narrative.**

"I am _not_!"

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You are so.

"I am Lord Voldemort! I strike such terror into the hearts of wizards that they fear to speak my name! If I want a bit of the narrative, I'll bloody well take it!"

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You won't take anything, _Voldy_, but what I give you. You know the laws as well as I do; don't try my patience.

Voldemort sat up straight, looking outraged. "Don't call me Voldy!"

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Don't give me occasion to call you Voldy, the voice countered smugly. **We're going to switch back to the protagonist shortly. And I don't want to hear any more bellyaching.**

Before Voldemort could protest, Ethan was standing on the groomed Hogwarts lawn, his whomping broomstick clamped firmly to his side. And if the Dark Lord howled a frustrated expletive at having the narrative snatched away, no one knew.

Ethan had been at Hogwarts for a week and a half. His classes had continued in the same fashion as they had begun. History of Magic was both a bore and a joke, Charms went well, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was just _strange_. It was frustrating to spend class periods doing what amounted to meditation; and although Firenze assured them that they were making progress, Ethan didn't feel like much was happening. Heck, Edward had unashamedly dozed off earlier that day in the middle of an "intuitive exercise." Not exactly conducive to fighting off the Dark Arts, as Nicholas was quick to point out.

Ethan's other classes had continued in the same vein. Herbology was still spent doing menial tasks; the most recent (and unpleasant) involved gathering fertilizer from Hagrid's Hippogriff pen. Ethan wouldn't have enjoyed being a pooper-scooper under the best of circumstances, but the fact that he had to bow to the pen's occupants before being allowed to take their waste away was just a _bit_ too humiliating. It didn't help to have Fawkes perched in a tree nearby, laughing his head off.

Transfiguration would have been fun if McGonagall hadn't been so vindictive; she seemed hell-bent on making the new crop of Gryffindors pay for the books in wasted effort. They were only just getting into Unit One: The Vast Wealth of Information the Harry Potter Books Haven't Taught You. Class periods were spent failing to do ridiculously complicated spells while McGonagall looked on with a smirk. Occasionally she would pepper the lesson with sarcastic remarks: "You could try holding your wand correctly, though in your case, I doubt it would help;" "Oh dear, did Rowling not go into enough _detail_ when describing this spell? What? She didn't describe this spell _at all_? How unfortunate!" and so on.

Potions was, quite surprisingly, going well. Or as well as it could go, considering the fact that the Ministry list of acceptable potions had yet to come through, resulting in the students being forbidden to so much as think about touching a cauldron. The students weren't allowed to make vegetable soup, let alone a Ditching Draught (they would have tested it, according to Snape, by giving it to students and seeing if they tried to surreptitiously leave the classroom… and they would have negated the potion with a simple dose of an Ethics Elixir). Being bogged down in theory as they were, they couldn't do much more than read and write essays on how various potions would be brewed _theoretically_. But Ethan hadn't been singled out for torment the way he'd expected. Snape didn't treat him any more (or less) cruelly than he treated everyone. It was nice to blend in.

But the protagonist feared that he wouldn't be able to blend in very well at all in this class. It was their first flying lesson. The class had been canceled the Wednesday before due to inclement weather; someone had started it _literally_ raining cats and dogs as a prank, and it took Hagrid and the house elves all afternoon to clean up the mess. The entire school had been lectured by Dumbledore on animal cruelty before dinner, the headmaster adding that they "all ought to be grateful the muggles blamed PETA for the emptying of that laboratory."

On this Wednesday, the sun was shining and birds were singing. Ethan was terrified. While the brooms of the rest of the class were lying on the ground in a docile fashion, his was quivering with excitement. He had a feeling that if he let it go, there would be a massacre.

"Ethan? You all right?" Nicholas looked at Ethan quizzically.

"My broom's a bit… well…" Ethan loosened his hold on the broom slightly, and it immediately swished violently towards Ethan's right, sweeping Edward's feet out from under him and landing him flat on his back.

"Wicked!" Nicholas said with a grin.

"Exactly," Ethan replied, a glum expression on his face.

"What was that for?" Edward asked mildly from the ground, making no effort to stand back up.

"It wasn't on purpose," Ethan said apologetically, clamping his broomstick to his side once more. "My broom's a maniac, that's all."

"Hmm," Edward said, turning his head to look over at his broom. "Mine is pretty quiet. Want to trade?"

"Desperately. But I doubt mine would let us."

Before more could be said, Madame Hooch appeared. Her yellow, hawk-like eyes surveyed the nervous first years. "Good afternoon," she said, "and welcome to your first flying lesson!" Her eyes landed on Ethan, then on his broom, which he was clutching with all the desperation of a drowning person clinging to a bit of driftwood. "Put your broom down, boy," she ordered. Ethan would have thanked her for the lack of special treatment if he hadn't found her request such a bad idea.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Ethan said frankly.

Madame Hooch frowned. "I didn't ask what you _thought_ of the idea, I _told_ you to put the broom down."

"This isn't a normal broom," Ethan argued, feeling a cold swell of desperation rising in his chest.

"He's right," Edward chimed in helpfully from his spot on the ground.

Madame Hooch sighed, looking annoyed. "When I give an order," she said with forced patience, "I expect it to be followed. I am going to tell you for the second and final time to _put down your broom_."

Ethan looked at his broom. It was quivering in his hands. Well, he had warned her, hadn't he? Ethan closed his eyes and, with a resigned little sigh, let go of his broom.

For a moment, nothing happened. The broom hovered in midair exactly where Ethan had been holding it. Then it seemed to realize that it had been released; a thrill of freedom rustled its whip-like bristles, and a moment later it was off like a shot. First years dove for cover as the broomstick zoomed over their heads with the intention (as far as Ethan could tell) of whomping all of the other broomsticks into submission. For their part, the other broomsticks did their best to roll feebly out of the whomping broomstick's way, but their power of movement was severely limited without a witch or wizard on top of them. Madame Hooch stood absolutely still, her mouth a perfect little o. Then she whipped out her wand and threw several incantations at Ethan's broomstick, none of which had any effect. A gaggle of terrified Hufflepuff students buried their heads under their arms as the whomping broomstick swished over them gleefully. A moment later, there was a loud _SNAP_ as one of the more brittle school brooms succumbed to a particularly violent whomp.

Ethan had been watching with bleak resignation, but the two twitching halves of the school broom stirred him to action. He pulled his own wand out of his back pocket, pointed it at his broomstick, and shouted, _"Accio!"_

It actually worked. The broomstick stopped in mid-whomp as if it had been frozen solid, then whooshed neatly into Ethan's hand. The boy stuffed his wand away and went back to holding his broom in two hands. He looked at Madame Hooch and managed a half-shrug. "I _told_ you."

"That was awesome," Edward said from his spot on the ground. He had not moved once inch since Ethan's broom had knocked him down before class began.

"Are you _insane_?" A Slytherin girl raised her head, then held up her hand, which had three red lines on it. "Look what that menace did to me!"

That prompted a small flood of injury reports. Many students had painful red lines on their hands or arms, and one unfortunate Ravenclaw boy had a small tuft of his hair lashed off. He was fingering the tiny bald spot and on the edge of tears.

"I'm _sorry_," Ethan said again and again, absolutely horrified. He doubted that his broomstick had hurt the students on purpose; its target had seemed to be the other brooms, which were lying around haphazardly, some of them with splintered sticks, some with brushes bent at angles contradictory to the laws of nature. It had been worse than Ethan had feared. Luckily (or perhaps not so luckily), none of the Gryffindor students had been harmed. They all looked a bit disheveled (well, except for Edward), but none of them were injured. Ethan couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not. On the one hand, his housemates wouldn't hate him as much. On the other, it looked like his broom had been discriminating against non-Gryffindors.

"Well," Madame Hooch said, looking at the wreckage, "it looks as if this lesson is over. Anyone with injuries, follow me to the hospital wing. The rest of you, return to the castle. And Williams," she looked sharply at Ethan, "do something about that broom of yours."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"'Do something about that broom of yours,'" Ethan mimicked bitterly as he sat in the common room that evening. "Like _what_? It's not like I can reason with it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Annabelle said mildly, looking up from her Potions essay on the assorted ways one could theoretically dice a bat. "Like you said, she's the one that told you to put it down."

"It's not your fault your broom went ballistic," Nicholas agreed, flipping through a copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ that he had borrowed from an older student. He was now trying to turn a matchbox into a matchbox car and not having much success.

"And it was funny," Edward added. He had decided he would get further in Transfiguration by making up his own incantations on a regular basis, so he had somehow procured a turnip and was saying random things to it to see what happened. So far it had turned to glass, rolled over, melted and reformed, and tearfully repented its many sins. Another swish of his wand and muttered nonsense word cause the turnip to break out into show tunes.

"Yesterday I loved yoooouuu as neverrrrr befoooooooore," the turnip crooned as Edward sat back, pleased with himself. "But please, don't think me straaaange, I've undergone a chaaaange…"

"How did you do _that_?" Nicholas asked, somewhat envious. Edward shrugged.

"And todaaayyy… I love you even moooooooooooore!"

"Awesome," Ethan said with a grin. They all stopped what they had been doing to listen.

"My heart cannot be trusted, I give yooooou fair waaarning. I openly confess… tonight I love you less… than I will toooooooomorrrrrrrooooowwww moooooooorniiiiiiiiiinnnnnggg!" the turnip bellowed.

"Hey." The four children looked up to say none other than Harry Potter standing over their table. Annabelle immediately looked back down at her Potions homework, and Edward clamped his hands around the turnip in a vain attempt to shut it up. A soft, muffled version of the melody still issued forth from between Edward's fingers.

"Um… hi," Ethan said hesitantly. He couldn't imagine what Harry would want with any of them.

"We have to see Dumbledore," Harry said, looking less than thrilled with the idea.

"We as in us?" Ethan asked incredulously, dropping his pencil-quill in surprise. "Why?"

"I don't know," Harry replied shortly. "I just got this from Dobby." He held up a small square of parchment covered in Dumbledore's handwriting; Ethan recognized it form his acceptance letter of sorts. "We're supposed to go to his office now."

Nicholas, Edward, and Annabelle looked nervously at Ethan, who was looking nervously at Harry. "Right. Well, then." He pushed back his chair and stood up, then followed Harry out of the room

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

After an awkward walk, Ethan and Harry sat in Dumbledore's office, looking at anything but each other. Harry was slouched sideways in his chair, as if trying to lean as far away from the younger boy as possible; Ethan was sitting as straight as he could and looking up at the snoozing portraits of old headmasters. He was so nervous the title didn't even make him snicker like it usually did. Fawkes was on his perch, watching with an uncustomary silence.

Dumbledore was surveying them both over his half-moon glasses, quietly drumming his fingers together. "I suppose you are both wondering why I have brought you here," the old man said, breaking the awkward silence. Ethan nodded, Harry grunted. The wizard turned his sharp gaze to Ethan, who tried not to flinch visibly. "Then I shall be brief. It has come to the Dark Lord's attention that you are the main character, Ethan."

"He must have been the last person to find out," Ethan replied without thinking. Harry rolled his eyes as Fawkes sniggered in approval.

"Quite," Dumbledore said with the ghost of a smile, before turning serious once again. "This puts Harry in an unfortunate position. Since he is not the main character, and furthermore is not one of your good friends, he has become," Dumbledore paused as if searching for the right word, "expendable."

"What?" Harry sat up and looked interested for the first time. "What does that mean?"

"It means that your death, from Ethan's point of view, would be of little consequence," the wizard said delicately. Harry whipped his head around so quickly that his glasses nearly flew off and glared at Ethan.

"What?" The boy asked, shifting defensively. "It's not like you'd be heartbroken if I bit the dust."

"Well, you're not the only person that can kill Voldemort, are you?" Harry shot back.

"Just say the word, kid, and I'll singe him bald," Fawkes said, glaring at the back of Harry's head. "Won't have to worry about flattening hair he hasn't got…"

"Boys," Dumbledore said sharply, holding up his hands. They both turned to look at him, and he continued in a softer but still firm tone. "Fighting will get us nowhere, so I would ask that you both sit quietly until I am finished."

"Fine," Harry said shortly.

"Because you are expendable, Harry, Voldemort will have a much easier time defeating you. You no longer have your main character status to protect you."

"I've bloody fought him before, haven't I?" Harry was gripping the arms of his chair with white knuckles. "I've gotten away from him loads of times!"

"Ah," Dumbledore held up a gnarled finger, "but you were the main character, then. And the main character always triumphs." He glanced briefly at Ethan, who had a niggling suspicion that that last statement wasn't quite true, and then back to Harry. "Unfortunately, you no longer have that privilege. You have been reduced to a bit character, of little importance. This means that, should Voldemort try to kill you, he will most likely make short work of it. I am sorry, but that is simply the way the bird entrails lie. My apologies, Fawkes," the headmaster added before the bird could burn something in protest.

"But… but that's _stupid_!" Harry cried, looking outraged.

"It may be, but that does not change the fact that it is true, Harry."

"So," Ethan said slowly, "what do you want me to _do_ about it? I can't help the fact that I'm the main character."

"Ah! An excellent question!" Dumbledore beamed at Ethan. "No, you cannot help that. But you may be able to help Harry."

"How?" Harry asked, looking condescendingly down at Ethan. "He's just a little first-year, no more better equipped to fight Voldemort than I am!"

"He is not better-equipped to fight Voldemort," Dumbledore conceded, "but he is infinitely more likely to survive an encounter with him. The Dark Lord would be unable to kill him, and would have no reason to kill him, besides."

"Well, that's all well and good!" Harry snapped. "Too bad Voldemort's trying to kill _me_, then, isn't it!"

"Calm down, Harry," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Here is what I propose. Voldemort will not be able to get to you if he has to get through Ethan first."

"So what, you want me to be his bodyguard?" Ethan looked incredulously from Dumbledore to Harry and back.

"In a sense, yes," Dumbledore said, looking pleased that he had caught on and either missing or deliberately ignoring the twin looks of horror on both boys' faces. "You shall remain as physically close to Harry as possible; follow him wherever he goes. In fact, it would be best if you preceded him, as you will be handling any object, however familiar or harmless in appearance before he does -"

"What!" Harry sat up straight, glasses slightly askew.

"Well," Dumbledore said in a reasonable tone of voice, "the Dark Lord is cunning, and has many who serve him. If an object in your path has been turned into a portkey by anyone, it is imperative that Ethan touch it before you do."

"You mean, any object?" Ethan said, hardly believing his ears. "Even, like, food?"

Dumbledore nodded. "You will go with Harry to every class, every Quidditch practice, every meal, every trip to the loo…"

"GAH!" Harry objected, seemingly incapable of forming words, so great was his indignation.

"Isn't this taking things, you know, a bit too far?" Ethan asked desperately as Harry slumped in his chair.

"If Harry cannot be the main character," Dumbledore said gravely, "then he must be as close to the main character as he can possibly get. I am afraid that is the only surefire way that he could survive his sixth year. And it is of great importance that he survive."

"What about my classes?"

"I trust that if you pay attention, you'll learn a thing or two in Harry's," Dumbledore said, favoring the boy with a kindly smile that was not returned. Harry slumped in his chair, looking disgusted beyond Ethan's ability to comprehend. Ethan felt a numbing sense of shock creeping though him, freezing all of his senses. He felt like he was just starting to get his life together at Hogwarts… and now, it looked like things were going to just fall apart.

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Reviewer responses will resume next chapter. ;) I wanted to just get this one out there. Love you all!

Platy


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